The Alcohol, The American, and The Drunk
by Somepatriot
Summary: Wow! How original! USUK where England is drunk and meets America on a whim! Pfftt... Well, I promise you this: I will make you smile at some point during this story. Human and country names used. USUK, PruCan, Spamano, SuFin & Geraita.
1. The Drunk

Everything was fuzzy. What song was playing? Is it even English? Wait- who's feeling my butt? Oh- it's just a chair.

Huh? A chair? Aren't I on the dance floor?

My head hurts…but in a good way.

"England, mon cher, you are drunk. It's time we get home."

I smiled. What was that person saying?

"Wow. He's totally wasted. Not as much as the awesome me, though!"

Did…did that person have a bird on their head?

"Gilbert, stop messing around we have to get him out of here before he passes-"

Suddenly, the world tilted. Wow, it's getting really dark!

And then my thoughts stopped.

I woke up with a pounding head. I peeked over the covers. Oh, thank god I was at least in my own bed. But…my shirt is missing…

And my pants!

Ugh, why is it so bright? What's that sound? AND WHO IS THAT!

Oh…it's France.

France.

France!

FRANCE!

"OH MY GOD!" I yelled, jumping out of my bed and glaring down in horror at the smirking blonde.

"Oh, England! Your awake!"

The pounding in my head increased. "YOU BLOODY WANKER-"

"Last night was amazing mon cher~"

"I'LL MURDER YOU!"

-Twenty punches, two kicks to the groin, and a headlock later-

"Oi! Oi! England! He's just messing around! He actually brought home a _very _nice girl…uh…you should probably stop hitting him there…"

"Prussia?"

"The Awesome Almighty Prussia!"

"He didn't…"

"No, man we had this awesome threeso-"

"I don't want to know."

The Albino shrugged. "Suit yourself."

I dropped the bleeding (literally) frog and walked over to my closet so I could put on some clothes.

"Mon cher~" France said, pinching his bloody nose. "You were even worse last night than usual. What went so wrong yesterday?"

"Yeah!" Prussia agreed. "You were so un-awesomely wasted!"

"Nothing." I told them, zipping up my pants. "And why don't you gits leave me be?"

France and Prussia pouted. "Ever since Antonio started dating Romano, he's been so un-awesome."

"He abandoned us!" The Frenchman whined. "He said 'I have to be faithful to my little tomato! I can't go out flirting with people every night!'."

I did the buttons of my shirt. "Well, at least one of you is respectable."

"I'm AWESOME."

I rolled my eyes at the two idiots. "NOW GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

I screamed, pushing France off my bed so he landed on his already broken face. I must have looked pretty scary, or maybe my hung-over morning breath was trully that terrible. Either way, the two most annoying nations in the world scrambled out my door.

Well…maybe not the MOST annoying.


	2. The American

I found myself, once again, in a pub.

I stared into my empty cup. So empty….just like my future.

There was a buzzing in the back of my head, but it's nothing I couldn't deal with. I'd walk home.

"Sir, would you like another drink?" The bartender asked.

At first, I thought he was talking to me. But as I looked up, I saw his attention was directed elsewhere.

Next to me sat a tall blonde man. He wore glasses and had striking blue eyes. But his clothes were wrinkled and messy.

In fact, normally, I would have just turned back to my empty beer bottle and never think of that man again. But one feature caught my eye.

He was smiling!

Who the bloody hell smiles in a pub?

Well, a lot of people, but they're either drunk or with friends. And this (actually handsome, on closer inspection) man was completely alone.

"Nah." He told the bartender. "I shouldn't. 'fraid I haven't built up much of a tolerance yet."

The bartender smiled (yes, it's rather infectious) and nodded.

Now this man had really pulled all my interest onto him. Why was he so happy?

"Hello." I said, shifting towards him. "I'm Arthur Kirkland. And you are?"

The blonde held out his hand and answered with a heavy American accent.

"Alfred F. Jones. Nice tuh meet cha!"

His hand was strong, such a firm grip!

"Whoa man…" He said, gripping my elbow along with my hand. "You're kind of tipsy."

"I am not!" I said, a little more loudly than I should have.

"Yes, he is." The bartender said, leaning over a bit. "He's had quite a few drinks. I think it's time I cut him off."

"WHAT! YOU DON"T KNOW ME!"

The blonde man -Alfred- let out a loud laugh. "Man! You look totally different when you're angry!"

"WHAT! I'M FROM THE BLOODY UNITED KINGDOM AND I CAN HOLD MY LIQUOR BETTER THAN YOU! STUPID AMERICAN!"

"Whoa, dude calm down!"

"YOU! DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! YOU CAN'T COME IN HERE ALL HAPPY AND-"

My voice was muffled by a large hand clamping over my mouth.

"leh go righ now!"

"What was that? Couldn't hear you!"

I latched onto the (muscled) arm and tried to pull it off my face. But this just caused the stupid bloody American to hold tighter.

I tried biting his palm, licking his fingers. Nothing worked!

*America's (HEROIC) Point of view*

Arthur looked kind of… cute when he was angry. Those HUMONGOUS eyebrows like…connected…

Anyways, he was totally biting and licking my hand, which was hilarious, because he looked like such an old dude I never would have thought he would try something a kid would do.

I liked him immediately!

So I (of course) had to do my heroic duty and get him out of the bar. He was making such a loud noise…and he's so small! How is that even possible?

So (heroically) I dragged him out of the bar and into the parking lot. I tried to sit him down on a curb but he was too busy yelling at me. He must have been really mad, 'cause he started making up words like "Git" and "yank" and "Bloody Wanker".

But he eventually shut up! And (like a hero) I asked him why he had been drinking so much.

His eyes got really sad, which sucks, 'cause his eyes are really pretty. Like, ridiculously pretty. They sparkle and they're SO green and…

Where was I?

Oh! Yeah, his eyes got really sad, but then he started telling me off and saying things like "I'm fine! I don't need anyone's help!"

And so I asked "Help for what?" and he got all tense and started yelling again.

"Arthur, it's okay. I'm the hero! What's up?"

"Nothing you stupid wanker! I can take care of myself! I don't need anyone! I don't care what stupid Francis says about stupid…"

"Huh? Who's Francis? What does he say?"

"MIND YOUR OWN BLOODY BUSINESS!"

There goes that face again… "Arthur, listen I'm the hero! I need to help you!"

"THERE'S NOTHING TO HELP ME WITH!"

"But you were-"

"THAT'S IT! I'M LEAVING!"

-THIRD PERSON TIME YAY!-

And with that, Arthur stormed away, mumbling all the way to his apartment. He was so mad, he didn't even notice the (Heroic) American trailing him home.

The Brit slammed open his door and walked into the flat, much to a certain Frenchman's despair.

"Oh! Arthur! You are back! I definitely wasn't replacing all the foods in your kitchen-"

"GO HOME, FROG. I'M NOT IN THE MOOD!"

Francis stumbled backwards. Something terrible had obviously happened. Something even Francis didn't dare ask about.

And (for possibly the first time) Francis made the right decision and left Arthur alone.

He trailed out of the apartment, only to be met by a very well… strange stranger.

"Yo, dude! You know Arthur?"

"Yes…?"

"What's up with him man? I'm the hero! I have to help!"

"Um…You… want to 'help' Arthur?"

"Yeah man! I'm the hero!"

A smirk spread across the Frenchman's face. "Alright, _mon cher_. I know just what you can do."

* * *

><p>Okay! That was the second chapter! I know it wasn't as funny or well written as the first one, but I don't have a beta. And this chapter was just basically for plot development.<p>

BUT YOU SHOULD STILL REVIEW!

Feel free to tell me off for being LAAAAAZY. It's cool. The next chapter will have much more funnies and heroin(not crack).

And Romano and Spain come in! Well, Romano might be chapter four but... I'VE SAID TO MUCH!

Sorry for grammatical/spelling/OOCness.

I DO BETTER NEXT TIME! I PROMISE!


	3. The Alcohol

Aloha! Hi, It's me again. Just to let you know: this chapter is a little depressing. But we'll get back on the humour boat soon! I promise!

Disclaimer:

Contrary to popular belief, I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

><p>"But dude, who are you, anyways?" The young American asked, following the blond down the street.<p>

"Ohonhon~ I am Francis Bonnefoy, I am an…old friend of dear Arthur's."

"Oh! Yeah, he mentioned you. What's up with him, dude?"

Francis paused, looking straight at the American.

"It was a month ago…"

England was minding his own business, sitting at his desk, when his boss came in the room. Her hair was matted and unkempt, he eyes red with old tears and anger. Her normally ordered clothes were a wrinkled mess, and she was clenching her fists so tightly, they might have just hardened in steel.

"KIRKLAND!" She screamed.

"YOU'RE FIRED!"

Arthur looked up from his paper work, completely baffled. This job was his life. It bought his home, his food, and sometimes even his "friends."

He loved his job as an editor. No matter what was going on in his damned life, he could always count on walking into the office and smiling.

"Ma'am?" He asked, a tight feeling taking hold of his gut.

"GET OUT!" She screamed, throwing a stapler at him. Arthur ducked the stapler-of-death just in time and rushed out of the room.

There was only one reason for this.

Patrick.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?"

The Irishman shrugged, disinterested. His brother had interrupted his very important rugby game to complain over stupid little things…again.

"I got bored with her. I dumped her."

"You're a bloody bastard if you think that's the proper way to do it."

Patrick shrugged. It wasn't that bad.

That morning he had gone to his (ex)girlfriend's house and got down on one knee.

"Miranda, would you marry me?"

"Oh my gosh! Patrick! I don't know what to say!"

"Well say no. We're over. I've been cheating on you for the past four weeks."

The woman's face contorted. "Is that some sort of joke?"

"No." Patrick said, getting up and chucking the plastic ring in the woman's bushes. "I'm bored with you. G'bye."

And then he turned and left the poor girl, crying in shock on her door step.

"Listen, brother. I don't really care. I got a telly, rugby, food, and a new girl. That's all that matters to me."

The brit punched his brother in the face. "You bloody wanker."

Patrick looked up at his brother, pinching his bloody nose. Damn, for a guy that small, he could really pack a punch.

And then a fight had ensued, a rather bloody one, might I add, that ended in two respectable trips to the hospital.

Needless to say, the brothers were no longer speaking.

"Whoa. Seriously?" Alfred asked.

The Frenchman nodded solemnly. "But that isn't all."

Two weeks after the fight, the brit got a terrible phone call.

"Yes. This is Arthur Kirkland. May I ask who this is?"

"This is Savannah. I'm with the North hospital. I'm sorry to inform you, but your brother Patrick has gotten into a car accident."

"Oh my- Is he okay?"

"No sir, I'm terrible sorry, but he passed away just half an hour ago."

"Oh my god." Alfred said. He and France were sitting on a park bench, the sun was setting against the dull gray sky.

"He didn't even get to apologize."

Alfred stared at the Frenchman in shock. Things like that just didn't happen, not in real life.

"But there's more."

"More?"

"He was out of job, out of money. He was already staying at my place. He couldn't even afford to go to the funeral."

"Are you kidding me?"

Francis shook his head sadly. "I offered to pay, but he wouldn't except the money. His other siblings told him they'd rather him not show up."

"What? Why?"

"I'm not sure. I know that the brothers never really got along, but that three of them were particularly loyal to each other. And they liked to tease Arthur. So, maybe they blamed Arthur for Patrick's death. Maybe they just didn't have the money. I don't know."

Alfred watched the surrounding darkness, and then turned back to Francis. The man had a strange look on his face.

"Oh, don't tell me there's more."

"But there is, _mon cher_, there is."

A week after the death of his brother, Arthur had the terrible misfortune of finding out who your true friends are. Many of them started to completely ignore him, others straight-up told him they were using him for money, or work, or reputation. Others simply didn't care.

Arthur was left with Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio. If they even count. He started drinking, and because of that, he couldn't get a job. His leftover friends tried to cheer him up in the best way they knew how: get drunk, get partied, get laid. But Arthur had never been the party type, or the one-night-stand type, for that matter. And on top of that, his pride and self-confidence had shriveled and crawled under the floorboards of his mind.

He was lost. It was amazing he hadn't tried suicide.

"But he's been showing promise recently!"

"Oh?"

"Yes, he's stopped crying every night!"

"Oh…"

Alfred looked at his entwined hands, thinking.

If he and Matthew had gotten into a fight, that sent each other to the hospital, and then Matthew died two weeks later, could Alfred deal with that?

Could Alfred deal with being unemployed, and not having the money to go to the funeral? To have his family tell him they didn't want him there, anyways? And then losing all his friends?

No.

No, Alfred could not deal with that.

"Man. Even I don't think I can help him."

"Yes you can! You can! All Arthur needs is a friend. He and I are…Well, we've known each other to long. He won't listen to a thing I say. But you! You could convince him to stop drinking! You can comfort him! Just be his friend."

In all actuality, the Frenchman had no intention of getting Arthur a new friend. He was thinking of a certain other sort of relationship. One that Alfred could fill perfectly. Someone strong, and daft, and all-around kind.

(Yes, Francis can tell all that by a few exchanged words with someone. He is the king of _l'amour_, after all.)

The American nodded determinedly. "Okay man! But I need help! I know I'm super awesome but I can't do it by myself."

The blond man smiled at the familiar form of confidence. "Don't worry, _mon cher_, I have partners-in-crime. And something tells me you will like them."

* * *

><p>I hope you guys aren't too mad at me for killing off Ireland. But I needed one of Arthur's family members, and Ireland was stumbling aroung in my mind, drunk, screaming "WELSH IS A STUPID LANGUAGE!"<p>

So, you know, I had to use him.

Oh, I lied about Spain being in this chapter. He'll be in the next chapter for sure. And I promise he'll be the sexy Spain we all know and love.

SHORT AUTHORS NOTE MUST STAY SHORT!

Review, Fave! LOVE!~


	4. Turtles, Dresses, and Porn

And so, like most other life-changing/scarring events go, Alfred found himself suddenly transported to the doorstep of what the Frenchman called "his apartment".

But as the American stood there, he could hear that the Frenchman did not live alone. Through the thin walls of the building, the resonating sound of gunshots and explosions could be heard. Either world war ||| was breaking loose in apartment 2B, or some one was playing Death Op. 6.

Alfred hoped for the latter.

As the Frenchman fumbled for the correct key, a new argument started up.

"No! Lovi, it's not like that!"

"Shut up! Pervert Bastard!"

"I think it's cute!"

"SHUT UP! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT I'M IN THIS ANYWAYS!"

A new voice shouted over the bombs. "Just go fuck already! I'm tired of your un-awesome sexual tensions!"

"Bastard!"

"Lovi~"

"NO."

The Frenchman finally turned the key in the lock, only to find the door had been open in the first place. Mumbling about stupid roommates, the Frenchman turned the key again and swung open the door.

And Alfred was met with the strangest thing he'd ever seen.

There was a man, completely surrounded by garbage (chips, energy drinks, sausages, beer) lying upside down on the couch with a controller in his hands. He was screaming "FIVE METERS. SUCK ALL FIVE METERS!"

But this was not the strangest thing.

Two other men could be found a bit off the right, in what was the "hallway" between the kitchen and living room. One of them was wearing a pink dress and matching apron, and the other was covered in turtles.

Like, (totally) covered. They were swarming around his body, some dropping off, only to crawl back on. His arms were spread, and he was wearing a worried expression, while the dress-man was trying to fling turtles off the others neck, in order to choke him.

But this whole scene was depleted when Francis straightened up and cried: "HOME!"

Gilbert paused his game and jumped up. "Did you get it?"

Francis was going to answer, but the man in the dress took one look at Alfred, and screamed "I'M LEAVING!"

"In that?" Asked the turtle-man.

"I HATE-AH YOU SO MUCH-AH!"

"Just go in the bedroom Lovi~ I'll meet you-"

"LIKE HELL!"

The dress-man stormed off, his face as red as a tomato.

During this whole scene, Francis had handed Gilbert a magazine, not that Alfred noticed, and the Albino was retreating to his room, much to Alfred's confusion.

And then there was three.

"So, is this your new fling for the night, Francis? I'll get out of your way if-"

"Non. No need, Antonio. I'm afraid he's for our dear British friend."

Antonio looked shocked. "What? You think-"

Alfred cut in. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. I have a few questions."

"Go ahead, mon ami."

"First, what do you mean 'I'm for Arthur'?"

"Ah, you- um- you are his hero, non?"

"Oh! Yeah! I'm like totally the hero!" (Francis sighed with relief) "Okay then, number two: Why was that guy in a dress?"

This time the Spaniard answered. "Oh, that. You see, one night we got really drunk, and we made this bet that if I learned Italian in a month, he would wear a dress."

"And you're covered in turtles because…?"

"They admire me as their leader."

"Ooookaaaay…"

Alfred was seriously rethinking his decision to help these people, but as he had never been too much of a thinker, he only got as far as "this is weird" before his mind was distracted by a different matter entirely.

"Anyways" Antonio said, brushing a turtle out of his eyes. "He's the…'hero' for Arthur, right? So we should go get him!"

"You're right!"

And so, the two idiots began exiting the room, only to be pulled back by a certain Frenchman. "Non! We can't just throw Alfred at Arthur! We have to do this slowly!"

The two idiots stared at the blond blankly.

"We have to get him drunk first."

"oh!"

"And I got the perfect name for our mission! Attack plan:

! Or G.A.D.B.H.I.D.A.W.N.T.B.H.H.P!"

"Right…Let's go."

"An' so…An' so…I says to 'im…I says: YER NOT A SLIPPER!" Arthur said. He was leaning slightly toward Alfred, a dead serious expression on his face. "But then! Then! Flying mint bunny came. An'…an'…."

Arthur lurched forward, banging his head on the table. "ARG! IMMA PIRATE!"

Alfred was trying really _really _hard not to laugh. He was doing his best to keep a straight face, but the British man didn't seem to want to let him do so. He began singing. Loudly.

"MY COUNTRY TIS OF THE! AMERICA SMELLS LIKE PEE! YOUR MOM IS FAAAAT!"

"Arthur…It's time to calm down."

"Why? You don't need to… look at me like that! Wassap with your eyes anyways? They sooooo blue! Wassap with dat?"

"Arthur…You're starting to scare me…"

"WHY! IS IT CAUSE I'M BLACK?" Arthur asked, pounding his chest. "IS THAT IT? ARE YOU RACIST? HUH?"

The Brit slumped onto the table. "BLAMAHAFA!"

Alfred patted his back. "That's it… okay…"

He looked at Francis, who winked at him.

That was the signal.

"Hey…Artie?"

"Watcha want?"

"Um…how about we hang out more? Like be friends or something?"

Arthur sat up and looked him in the eye, very seriously. "That depends." He paused. "Are you a fairy?"

"No…"

"Alright!" Arthur smiled. "We can be like…BEST BUDDIES!" He threw an arm over Alfred's shoulder. "Have I ever told you about the time I got fired, pal?"

"No…"

"MY BOSS THREW A STAPLER AT ME! BAHAHA!"

"Uh-huh…"

Francis walked over to the little pair, and whispered into Alfred's ear. "Hey, Alfred. Can you take Arthur home with you? I can't handle him. And he'll need someone in the morning, being so hung over and all."

Alfred hesitated. "Um…"

"It'd be heroic~" Francis added.

"ALRIGHT! I'll DO IT!" Alfred jumped off his stool. "C'mon Artie! We're going to my house!"

"BUT YOUR NAME ISN'T MARTHA!"

* * *

><p>Oh, I love England3<p>

Especially when he's drunk. I hope you enjoyed the stupid Hilarities in this chapter. More plot development in the next one, and our precious Mattie will make an appearance! YAY! VODKA!

Ah...Sorry.

If I suceeded in making you smile, REVIEW!

If not, TELL ME OFF! I want FLAMES. HUGE BURNING FLAMES.

I use them to roast my marshmallows.

Um...That is all.


	5. French Canadians

Hi~ Um..I don't have much to say...

Forgot this last time:

Disclaimer: Once upon a time, the great outaku Nation owned Hetalia. But slowly, the countries proclaimed their independence :'( Now we are alone...like England...

* * *

><p>Alfred threw open the door to his apartment. "MATTIE!" He screamed.<p>

The entire way home, Arthur had been a royal pain in the ass. He couldn't walk, so Alfred basically dragged him, and he kept pointing out stupid things.

"OH MY GOD! Alfred, it's a hobo!"

"Arthur, that's an old lady."

"Are you sure?"

"Well...Not really..."

A very tired looking Canadian tromped down the stairs. "What is it? It's almost three in the morning!"Arthur, upon seeing Matthew, screamed "OH MY GOD! A CLONE!"

"It's not a clone, Arthur. Mattie's my twin."

"So you're the clone?"

"No. Neither of us are clones."

"Oh. Well. That's good, right?"

Matthew was standing next to Alfred (when did he get there?) "Hey, Al, who's this?"

"Oh. this is Arthur. He's a friend."

"BEST FRIEND!" Arthur screamed, lurching forward, and hugging Matthew. "Right buddy?"

"Um...Wrong twin..." Matthew chocked out.

Alfred chuckled dryly. "He's wasted. Can you help me carry him upstairs? I'll give him my bed."

Matthew nodded, and together they carried a kicking and screaming Arthur.

"UNHAND ME YOU BLOODY PIRATES! I'll tell you where the treasure is! UNHAND ME!"

Together, the twins threw the Englishman on Alfred's bed. Said American promptly told the blonde to go to bed and shut up, upon which he closed the door.

"That's enough excitement for one night." Matthew said. "Night, Al."

"Night Mattie."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

It's one thing to wake up in your own bed, with no clue what happened last night. But it's a completely different situation when you have no idea where you are, and that the "night's partner" is no where to be seen.

Arthur, in normal circumstances, would have screamed. But his growling stomach reminded his nose of something.

The whole room (and probably house) smelled strongly of pancakes. And Arthur was _starving._

Cautiously, he crept down the hall and into the kitchen. And small blonde man was flipping some pancakes on the stove. He was whistling tuneless melodies, and he just looked content.

"Um...Excuse me..." Arthur mumbled.

The boy turned, seemingly surprised. "Oh! It's you! I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be up so early, I thought you'd be hung-over."

At the reminder, Arthur head started pounding relentlessly, and he could almost hear a fait ringing in his ears. "Was I really that drunk?"

The blonde chuckled. "Oh yes. You asked Alfred if I was his clone, and then you called us pirates when we tried to put you to sleep."

"I-I'm terribly sorry." The Englishman managed to say. But he was really thinking:

_Alfred? Alfred? That man from the pub?_

"It's fine!" Matthew smiled. "Alfred has brought me on worse adventures, that stupid hero complex of his."

"So...He enjoys helping people?"

Matthew nodded, dumping some pancakes on three separate plates. He motioned for Arthur to follow him to a small wooden table, were he had already set out maple syrup and silverware. He set down the plates and then screamed. "ALFRED! WAKE UP!"

A muffled reply came from upstairs. "Nuh-uh!"

"FOOD!" Matthew called.

"COMING!"

Footsteps pounded down the stairs, and Alfred appeared wearing only a pair of drawstring pants.

"Yay! Pancakes!" He sat in one of the chairs, and immediately began pouring half the bottle of syrup on his breakfast.

Matthew sat down much more calmly, and poured the other half bottle of syrup on his food. (Much to Arthur's surprise).

Arthur sat down slowly, as if unsure a third brother would show up and proclaim that Arthur was stealing his food. But neither brother acknowledged him, both attended to their food quite well, and Alfred was talking animatedly (with food in his mouth, disgusting) about some NASCAR race.

Matthew nodded politely, glancing at the Sunday paper.

Arthur was a bit distracted by a certain Americans abs, but he shook his head and reminded himself of the boys stupid personality. He drizzled what was left of the syrup on his respectable breakfast, and began digging in.

"Oh yeah!" Alfred suddenly said, completely forgetting his other conversation. "How are you holding up, Arthur? Francis said you were worse than usual. You started using American slang."

Arthur nearly chocked on his food. He swallowed heavily. "I did WHAT? Francis was there? Wait- That reminds me, why am I here?"

Alfred smiled, and recounted the entire "Last Night" story to Arthur. Matthew was laughing within a few minutes.

But Arthur, who knew Francis and his antics quite well, could only feel a sense of dread. You see, anyone with half a brain (That Alfred was clearly lacking) could see that Francis was trying to set up Al and Arthur. What with the whole "friends" thing, and using Alfred's hero complex against him, and then bloody SENDING THEM HOME TOGETHER.

Alfred, the daft thing, just assumed he was being kind. But as the story grew, Matthew (bless him) began to have a knowing smirk grow on his face.

"And then we dumped you on the bed." Alfred finished.

Arthur nodded. "Oh."

_He's actually not that bad... but he's so thick! And we absolutely would NOT get along. Or...am I over-thinking this whole situation? Is Alfred even gay?_

"So yeah!" Alfred nodded. He got up, dumping his plate in the sink. He turned around with a dazzling white smile. "Um, what now?"

Arthur was going to suggest he leave, and NEVER EVER come back, but Mattie interrupted. "Let's all go see a movie!"

"Oh, no thank-you, I really-"

"YEAH!" Alfred yelled. "Let's see that Harry Potter movie!"

Arthur hesitated. He did really want to see that movie, and it wasn't like Francis or the other two would want to go see it. "well..."

"Please Artie?" Alfred asked, his best kicked-puppy look on. "It'll be fun!"

"Well, I don't- wait! What did you just call me?"

"Artie!"

"My name is Arthur."

"Aw, fine. But then you have to some with us to the movie!"

"Fine."

Alfred smiled brightly, and ran upstairs. "YAY! HARRY POTTER!" He screamed, in a terrible imitation of a British accent.

"WE DO NOT SOUND LIKE THAT!" Arthur yelled after him.

Matthew chuckled quietly, much to Arthur's embarrassment. He had just got into an augment worthy of a six year old. "Um, come with me, Arthur. We should find you some new clothes."

Arthur looked down at the wrinkled mess he was currently sporting, and a blush ran across his face.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Arthur sat in between the twins, much to his regret. Matthew was fine, he was calm and quiet, but Alfred was a complete scardey-cat. Anytime something remotely dark or suspenseful happened, he would latch onto Arthur's arm and squeal like school girl, or he would begin whispering about how scary it was to Matthew.

By the time the movie ended, Arthur was sure he had bruises up his whole forearm. As they walked out of the theater, Arthur smacked Al upside the head. "Git!"

"Ow! Artie, what was that for?"

"Don't call me Artie! It was for ripping my arm off the whole movie!"

"It was scary!"

"Yeah, if you were five."

"Artie~ That was mean!"

"MY NAME IS ARTHUR!"

_Ring ring ring_

Arthur removed his phone from his pocket (he had forgotten to turn it off during the movie. -oops)

"Hello?"

"Mon cher! Bonjour! How's it going?"

"YOU BLOODY FROG! AS IF I WOULDN'T FIGURE IT OUT? I KNOW JUST WHAT YOU'RE UP TO!"

"Ohonhon~ I don't know what you mean, mon ami! But if I were to be up to something, although I'm clearly not, why aren't you at your apartment?"

"I-I um. I went to see Harry Potter."

"Ohonhon~ And whom did you go with?"

"No one!"

Arthur's conversation was cut off by a stupid American. "Arthur! Who are ya talking to? Is it Francis? Tell him I said Hi!"

Francis chuckled on the end of the line.

"Salut, Alfred! Prenez soin de petit Arthur! Et le baiser! L'amour doit être montré à travers des baisers! Et autres actes ... Ah, je dois y aller maintenant! Bonne journée!"

Arthur snapped his phone shut. (He under stood a bit of French.)

"Bloody frog..."

"Huh? What did all that mean?"

"Oh, nothing!" Arthur assured quickly.

Little did he know, a certain Canadian heard the whole thing. A certain French-speaking Canadian.

* * *

><p>Ohonhonhon~<p>

**French: Hi, Alfred! Take care of little Arthur! And kiss him! Love must be shown through kisses! And other acts...Ah, I must go now! Good-day!**

Does it count as a date if your little brother is there?

Thanks for all the alerts/favs! It makes me type faster!

So, dear lovley readers who bother to read this little footnote thingy, what pairing would you rather see, PruCan (PrussiaXCanada) or Franada (FranceXCanada)? Please vote! (Neither is a choice too, I guess -.-)

Oh, Flames are welcome! I live in Florida ;) I'm used to the heat.


	6. Castrating Frenchman and Breaking Walls

Bonjour mon amis! There is some French in this chapter, but do not fret! For I have included translations in the authors note! If they are not correct, feel free to complain. But I proabaly won't change it, because I'm lazy and I trust google translate with my very soul.

***WARNING* **This chapter contains Romano and France.(But not in the same scene) Enough said...

Disclaimer: I own hetalia. Oh, and I'm a compulsive liar. THAT WAS A LIE. Just kidding!~

* * *

><p>"Arthur! Alfred!" A cheery voice called out.<p>

Alfred looked around, much like a dog does when someone calls the word "squirrel". "Oh! You're that guy who was covered in turtles, right?"

Antonio, Gilbert, and Lovino marched towards the trio. "Yeah! My name is Antonio, though. Glad to see you're okay, Arthur! I thought for sure you'd end up in little bits on the side of the road!"

"And you didn't bother to make me stop drinking? Or, I don't know, take me bloody home?"

Antonio shook his head. "I had to go meet Lovi! Plus, you were with Francis and Alfred, what could've happened?"

"Oh yes, leave me alone with bloody FRANCIS, why don't you?"

Alfred placed his hands on his hips with an indignant: "Hey! I was there too!"

"Ha!" Arthur scoffed. "And even if you were, if Francis had decided to put the moves on me, you're so bloody _blind _when it comes to romance, you'd have no clue what was going on anyways!"

Gilbert snickered in his creepy, snake-like way. "What makes you say that Alfred is blind when it comes to romance, Artie?"

Said "Artie's" face flushed, much like Lovino's (Who was currently fighting off a Spaniard) and he snarled, in that British way of his. "I SAID NO SUCH THING! AND DO NOT CALL ME THAT!"

"Aw, why not, Artie?" Alfred pouted, oblivious as usual.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD DON'T TOUCH THAT!"

"Aw, why, Lovi?"

"It's disgusting!"

"How is it disgusting?"

"Do you know how many little kids have slobbered all over it?"

"But I want to play the crane machine!"

**(a/n Get your mind out of the gutter!)**

At some point during this conversation, Mattie had decided he'd had enough, and he was currently heading to the door when suddenly-

"Birdie!"

Damn Gilbert, he cut me off.

"Hey, birdie! Where are you going?"

Matthew turned, quite surprised. "Birdie?"

"Well, yeah! I don't know your name, and I think 'birdie' is an awesome nickname!"

"My name is Matthew," he paused, the mumbled "not that anyone remembers it is..."

Gilbert went on smiling. "You know, I have a pet bird! It's name is Gilbird! After the awesome me! GILBERT!"

He yelled the last part like one may yell the word "SPARTA".

Matthew opened his mouth to say something, but Gilbert cut him off. (He's been making a habit of that lately, it's rather rude.)

"Hey, we should go get lunch!"

Now, Alfred heard the word "lunch", and when he hears this word, it triggers something deep within his miniscule brain. This something is a little man with a microphone, who screams at the top of his lungs "FOOD!"

The stomach hears this man, and immediately breaks through Alfred's thought process, so he may scream "HUNGRY!".

And that, my children, is your lesson on Alfrednatomy.

So, the point is, Alfred left behind a very pissed Englishman (Who had been lecturing him with words he didn't understand) so he could butt in to his brothers conversation. "Food? I'm in!"

"Actually, it was supposed to be more of a da-"

"Arthur, Antonio, that-guy-who-was-wearing-a-dress-the-other-day! We're going out for lunch, wanna come?"

(Ha-ha! Karma, Gilbert, karma.)

"Sure, I'll come, right Lovi?"

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! NEVER SPEAK OF THAT EVER AGAIN!"

Lovino was trying to punch Alfred in the face, but Alfred was holding him away from himself at arms-length, which is quite amusing to watch, if you've never seen someone do this before.

"Where are we going? How about McDonalds?"

"NO!" Everyone in the group shouted.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

**oOoOoOoOoO**

Then ended up going to an Italian restaurant, because Lovino had suggested it, which meant a certain Spaniard would automatically agree. And Gilbert was "fine with it, but only because there's no Prussian restaurants around." and Matthew had mumbled something or another that no one caught but Gilbert took as an agreement. Anyways.

After they had all ordered, they broke into their own little conversations.

"Lovi~! You're so cute!"

"Shut up, bastard."

**OoOoOoOoOo**

**oOoOoOoOoO**

"And I was so awesome, that everyone died. The end."

"Mhhmmm..." Matthew muttered. "_Cher Seigneur, aide-moi maintenant_."

"Hey, wait, was that French?"

"Mhmm.."

"I have a French friend, his name is Francis!"

"Yeah, I think I've heard of him. Is he the one that told Alfred to kiss Arthur?"

Gilbert looked surprised for a minute, then laughed. "Yeah, sounds like him!"

**OoOoOoOoOo**

**oOoOoOoOoO**

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! When did he tell me to kiss Arthur?"

"That French bit at the end of his phone call."

Alfred was going to say something, but an angry Brit cut him off. (I think I have a cutting-off fetish...)

"So that's what he said! Bloody pervert frog! Next time I see him, I'll throttle him! No- wait, I did that last time..."

Arthur had a certain expression on his face, one in between "back-off-bitch, I'm busy" and "they're coming to take me away! HAHA! They're coming to take me away! HoHo!"

(Heeheehoohoohaha!)

"Um, Artie, maybe you should calm-"

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!"

"Ouch! Artie! That hurt!"

"Well, I wasn't trying to hug you."

"Aw, why not?"

"BECAUSE YOU CALLED ME ARTIE! TWICE!"

"Ow! Stop!"

"No!"

"OW!"

"Well, you bloody right deserve- OW! Did you just hit me?"

"Well, I wasn't trying to hug you."

"YOU DAMN GIT!"

"OW!"

"OW!"

"OW!"

"Alright, Alright, break it up!" Mathew said, stepping in before the dialogue could get too long.

"C'mon guys, it's like I'm babysitting seven year olds!"

"HAHAHA! I'm the hero!"

"How is that relevant...to anything?"

"Well, we were on a canon role, so I thought I should go along with it."

Silence filed the restaurant.

"Alfred...did you just break the fourth wall?"

*Nuclear explosion/time warp/ big bang theory/ getting an "f" on your report card.../*

"Oh! Food's here!"

And so it was.

They all began chowing down on their respectable lunches, Alfred with vigor, Arthur even less than happy. "I feel like all I've done all day is eat."

"Well, yeah, the author isn't really creative..." Alfred replied, through a mouthful of pasta.

"Did you just do it again?" Arthur asked, raising an impressive eyebrow.

"Like I said, not creative."

**OoOoOoOoOo**

**oOoOoOoOoO**

After lunch, they all went their separate ways, except, of course, for Arthur, because he had gotten a certain phone call.

"Arthur! _Mon cher! _" Francis had said. "I'm just calling because I thought I should tell you that you can't go home for say...a week."

"And why is that, you damn frog?"

"Ah, you see, your whole apartment building is infested with termites, _,no,whywouldyouthinkthat? _So you'll need to find somewhere else to stay. I'll happily let you stay at my place-"

"NEVER AGAIN."

"Well, if you insist, perhaps you should ask my dear American friend, Alfred! He's very nice, you know, and something tells me he'll say yes."

"Well, I can't. Even if I wanted to, I don't have his phone number."

"Yes, but you are standing right next to him."

"Well- WAIT. HOW THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU KNOW THAT?"

"Because I'm right behind that oak tree! No- the other one. Yes! Right there! See me? I'm waving!"

"Hey, Arthur, isn't that Francis-"

"I'M GOING TO BLOODY MURDER YOU!"

_Arthur ran across the street, so enraged, he didn't even see a car, barreling towards him. Just before he's about to get hit, Alfred pushes him out of the way, and their lips meet, oh-so-perfectly. Arthur blushes, and looks away, Alfred smiles and they go and get married and have three kids, a cat, and a dog._

Not really. Because I don't really like those stupid scenes. And I'm writing this story, so usually what I say goes.

All that didn't happen. Instead, Alfred was distracted by something shiny, and Arthur was hit by the car.

No! I was just kidding there too!

What _really _happened, and I mean it this time, is that Arthur looked both ways (like a sensible man) walked calmly across the street, and then proceeded to rip off Francis' balls.

"Arthur! Oh my god that looks painful. Arthur! You need to calm down!"

But Arthur didn't calm down (when has he ever listened to that stupid American?) instead, he seemed to do the opposite and become more enraged.

Francis had long-lost the ability to reproduce, after an STD came his way and nearly rotted his dick off before the doctors cured it. But if such a thing hadn't happened, he would be losing it now, because a very angry Englishman was attempting to castrate him with a broken plastic spoon he found by the garbage can.

At some point, Matthew and Alfred managed to pry him off, but that was long after Francis had converted to Christianity, and was praying to the lord to forgive his sins.

"_Dieu, pardonne-moi, s'il vous plaît_!" He cried.

Matthew had already confirmed this man was the much heard-of Francis, but the French washed away any doubts.

"_Calme, il est correct. Vous ... peut-être bien_." Matthew tried to tell him, hoping he sounded convincing.

But Francis seemed fine, he sat up immediately, a sparkle in his eye. "Ohonhonhon!~ You speak Le Français, oui?"

Matthew nodded, and the two began exchanging rapid French, much to Arthur and Alfred's confusion.

* * *

><p><em>Cher Seigneur, aide-moi maintenant<em>- Dear lord, help me now.

_Dieu, pardonne-moi, s'il vous plaît_!- God, forgive me. I'm sorry!

_Calme, il est correct. Vous ... peut-être bien_- Calm, it is okay. You...might be fine.

_Mon cher _- My dear

Okay! I think that just about coveres it. Sorry about breaking the fourth wall, but I had to. Because little does everyone know, there is a fifth wall, lurking behind it, smirking, thinking "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts!"

*Ahem* In other news!

Team **PruCan**: 2 votes

Team **Franada**: 2 Votes (Or so I assume, because one of the reviews said 'Dance and Canada!' whish I think is a typo of 'France and Canada' unless they want Canada to dance. And I can make that happen.

So please, keep voting! Or else I'll have to choose Franada, because my friend will murder me. (That's right, I'm aware of you watching me, Dara) but I actually support PruCan just a little bit more then Franada, but for the sake of this story I thought Franada would work better, but it's up to you, my beautiful reviewers!

**please keep voting!**

Untill next time!

REVIEW FAVE ALERT! LOVE!


	7. Alfred and Arthur sitting in a tree

HELLO! I welcome all who are fantastical enough to read this story. (Yes, fantastical is a word, but only in the American language.)

***Warning*** Cursing, and just general France activities.

***HOLY MOTHER F*** ITS FULL OF FLUFF*** Kinda. I'm starting to make some relationship developments. Oh, and for all those who want to know **PruCan** won! Congrats!

Disclaimer: So, there's this guy, and he lives in this country, and he owns this thing. And I don't own that thing. And that is bad. So I'm sad now.

* * *

><p>The conversation between Matt and Francis is one, thank god, Arthur will never understand.<p>

Because Matthew, although he did not share his brothers confidence or strength, he did seem to get what Alfred was lacking: Brains.

And dear, clever little Matthew had figured out Francis' plan before even Arthur did.

The Plan:

Get Arthur his confidence back, make him stop drinking, get him a nice boyfriend, and get him a (insert Romano's favorite word here) job.

Now, you must understand, the two blondes had this conversation within a few moments, and during those few moments, they became something close.

Partners in crime.

But, also during those few minutes, Alfred had also become something.

Bored.

Very very oh-so excruciatingly painfully I'm-gonna-throw-myself-of-a-cliff _bored_.

So, (thank god) he managed to make a particularly wise decision, and instead of throwing himself of a cliff, he wandered the park they had so conveniently wound up at.

He strolled towards a nice-looking climbing tree.

Yes. It was _very_ nice. It had those perfect branches, the ones that were practically _touching _the ground, _begging_ him to just, step on, climb up, and enjoy life.

"Alfred, where are you going?" Asked the only character who we haven't mentioned yet. (Hey, he has to come in somewhere, he's kind of the main character. Kind of.)

"I was gonna climb a tree." Alfred stated, as if it was perfectly normal.

"What? How old are you, five?"

"No, I'm nineteen."

Arthur stopped walking, which made Alfred stop walking. Said American turned around and raised a not-so-impressive eyebrow. "What?"

"You're nineteen?"

"Yeah, why?"

Arthur didn't know. He didn't understand why he was so shocked, or even why he _cared_. It made him feel a bit...nervous. "Oh, no reason in particular. I just...I have a brother who is nineteen. That's all."

It wasn't a lie. His brother, Torin, was nineteen. But he knew that wasn't why. And he had a feeling Alfred did, too. "Oh. Well, I guess I'd like to meet him" Alfred said, continuing towards the tree.

Arthur followed him. "Oh no you wouldn't! Torin isn't as bad as my other brothers...brother, but he is still a right pain is the ass."

Alfred reached the tree, and easily hauled himself onto a branch. He didn't say anything. And Alfred _always _says something. "Were you even listening to me?" Arthur asked, his hands on his hips.

Alfred ducked a low branch, turned around, and held out a hand for Arthur. "Of course I was listening."

Arthur stared at Alfred's hand, much like someone would stare at a murder weapon. "Oh no." Arthur said, backing up a little. "I am _not _climbing trees like some six year old girl and WHAAAA!"

Alfred ignored Arthur's (manly, not girlish. MANLY) scream of terror as he lurched for his hand, and pulled the unsuspecting Brit up and into the tree.

"Rude!" Arthur huffed.

Alfred smiled, and nestled himself near the trunk of the great oak. He looked so damn _comfortable_ all Arthur wanted to do was curl up in his lap, close his eyes and never ever move ever again.

_Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! What am I thinking? Really now, I should stay away from Italian food..._

"Hey Artie."

"What?"

_ohcrapohcrapohcrap. I answered to Artie. I ANSWERED TO ARTIE!_

"Are you sad?"

"Sad? Why would I be sad?"

Alfred sighed. He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. "Just...everything."

Arthur cocked his head in confusion. Yes, he used to be sad. After all, his life hadn't exactly been leeches and beans (Peaches and cream) oh, sorry, peaches and cream.

But he didn't feel sad. Not at all. And it had been a long while since that had happened. But looking at Alfred, his soft hair ruffling slightly at the breeze, strange shadow patterns on his skin, courtesy of the leaves, he just couldn't help but...smile.

And damn, was he scared.

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

"Wow. We didn't even have to set that one up." Francis said, ducking behind a bush. "They really are cute together." Matthew agreed, feeling a bit uncomfortable spying on his brother.

"Okay, I need to call in some back-up. Gilbert was with you, right? He shouldn't be to far away."

_Oh god, Francis and Gilbert? I'm going to be raped..._

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

"And I was so awesome, that everyone died!"

"Gilbert, I am going to smack you."

_Ring ring ring_

"Hallo?" Gilbert said, picking up his phone. "Oh! Francis! What do you want?" He paused, listening to the reply. "No way! I'm not walking all the way to the park just to spy on Alfred and Arthur while they flirt in some-"

Before he could finish, Elizabeta wrenched the cell phone out of his hand, and put in to her ear. "Don't worry Francis! We'll be there!"

"What? No you bitch! I don't want to go anywhere with you! OW! LET GO OF ME YOU CRAZY WOMAN!"

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

"And this one time, me and Mattie were at the zoo, and this little boy had fallen into the monkey exhibit. And let me tell you, those monkeys were _not _happy. I mean, poop was flying everywhere. So I jumped in and threw him out -don't worry, he landed on his feet- but anyways, then _I _got stuck down there for like _ten_ minutes until they got a ladder and I climbed out. Man, I smelled like monkey crap for _weeks_."

"I'm not sure if I should be impressed, weirded out, or repulsed."

"Probably the first one." Alfred replied.

*Somewhere, deep within the underbrush of the park*

"Eew, did he really do that?"

"Yes, unfortunately, he did."

*Back to the tree*

"Well, I have a better story. One time, on my twentieth birthday, my brothers decided to get me drunk. They spiked my drinks, and my food (did you know you can do that? You can, apparently.) then, they convinced me that my nan was a pirate, and that somewhere under the table, there was a sword. So, I jumped under the table, looking for the sword. While I was under there, they all sat on the table, and the thing came crashing down on me. Broke my arm."

"Aw, Artie, that's terrible." Alfred said, pouting slightly.

"Yeah, my brothers are arse holes."

_GOD DAMMIT! I DID IT AGAIN! My name is ARTHUR ARTHUR ARTHUR!_

But it didn't seem to matter, because Alfred was distracted.

_Ha-ha. He looks really cute when he scrunches up his eyebrows like that. Well, he always looks cute. Except when he's yelling at me. Then he's hot. Whoa- that's kinda weird. That's really weird. I should stop thinking now._

"What are you staring at?"

"You."

_What. What? WHAT? Did he really just say that? Okay, calm down, you've known him for two days. Half the time you were drunk, anyways._

"Your eyebrows, to be exact."

Smooth, Alfred. Real damn smooth.

"You bloody git!"

"OW! Artie! You're gonna make me fall out of the tree!"

"GOOD!"

"NO! Wait! Your eyebrows suit you!"

"WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

"Ohonhonhon~! Young love!"

"You don't understand how badly this is creeping me out."

"Aw, why birdie?"

"I'm hiding behind a bush, watching my brother flirt with his boyfriend, while sitting next to a French pervert who's practically _drooling_. And a girl who is _filming the whole thing_."

"What did you say? I lost you at hiding."

"I give up!" Matthew said, getting up and walking away.

_Oh damn, he has a nice ass. I wonder if he knows he has a nice ass. Probably. I should tell him anyways._

"Hey! Birdie wait up!" Gilbert called, running to catch up with the Canadian.

Matthew tuned around. "Y-you are following me?"

"Duh! The awesome me couldn't let your awesome ass get away!"

"W-w-what?"

Gilbert snickered, and slapped the previously mentioned ass.

"What, you shy?"

Matthew jumped about three feet into the air, yelping like a puppy.

Well, no shit, Sherlock. He's freaking CANADA.

Who?

Exactly.

"Mattie, let's go on a date."

"W-w-what?"

"Yeah c'mon! TO THE PLACE!"

"WHAT PLACE!"

* * *

><p>Heh-heh-heh...<p>

Oh my god, my friend is going to rip my fingers off, one by one. Why? She loves Franada. And hurting me. ):

I DO IT FOR YOU, MY LOVELY LITTLE LEMON DROPS!

Um, this may be the last update for a while (maybe) because I'll need some time to grow back my fingers, and also because school starts again. And school hates me. A LOT.

But each review brings me a little closer to the computer, so please, REVIEW!

Flames are fine, it's been getting a little too chilly for my Floridian skin, anyways.

Um, if you are still reading this, I'd like to thank you for staying with me for seven chapters. I'd also like to thank everyone who has Favorited/reviewed/alerted. It really really makes me happy, getting those e-mails. I

think I've committed all eleven reviews to permanent memory. THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Sorry for any mistakes, I'm American!

-Mallory


	8. K I S S I N G

Hi. How are you? I''m fine, thanks.

Disclaimer: I prayed to god for ownership rights of Hetalia. But then I realized life doesn't work that way. So I stole it and prayed for forgiveness.

* * *

><p><em>This isn't happening. This can't be happening. Oh god, why is this happening? <em>Matthew thought as Gilbert pulled him to who-knows-where.

_Okay, it's time to wake up. There's no way this is real. Why would he even like me anyways? This is weird. I need to wake up!_

Gilbert stopped talking and turned around when he heard Matt slap himself. "Hey, birdie, are you okay?"

_NO! NO I AM MOST DEFFINATLEY NOT OKAY! _"W-w-well, I-I..."

"Aw! Birdie, that's cute!"

"C-cute?'

"Yeah! You're awesome! But not as awesome as me."

"Really?"

"Yeah! C'mon, let's go to the place."

"WHAT PLACE?"

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

_He doesn't know? HE DOESN'T KNOW. Wow, he's more of an imbecile than I thought. Stupid git. Insulting my eyebrows like that!_

"Um... They're cute!"

_WHAT? _"WHAT?"

"Yeah! They're cute! And they suit you! Because you're cute!"

_WHAT? _"WHAT?"

Alfred was holding Arthur's hand, (well, okay, maybe he had caught his fist, but he's still holding it!) and just looking so god damn sweet -no, _charming_- Arthur couldn't think straight.

His thought's were jumbled, and really _really_ scary.

_Cute. Cute? I think that's what he said. Wait- was that Francis? No, I'm imagining things. Cute... Is that an insult? How are eyebrows cute, anyways?_

"What?" Arthur repeated.

"Um...you're cute..."

"Thank...you...?"

"Your welcome!"

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

"Alfred you idiot! Don't say your welcome! Kiss him! God, what is wrong with that boy?"

"Ohonhon~ Look at Arthur's face! Mon dieu, this is the best thing since porn! Okay, maybe not porn. Maybe...cheap wine."

"Francis, focus! We need to get them together!"

"Oh? How?"

Elizabeta looked around the park, until she noticed something. "Hey, kid!"

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

You know that moment, when there's so much awkward science, you can just feel it? That moment where, even that one person who never _shuts the hell up _can't find anything to say?

Yeah, Arthur and Alfred weren't in that moment. Because a little boy climbed up the tree like a squirrel, and basically climbed over Alfred. He crawled towards Arthur, and said: "Staring contest: GO!"

Arthur, bewildered, played along. He didn't even notice Alfred was still holding his hand. (Kind of...)

The little boy, still staring intensely at the Englishman, began talking. "Okay, how about we make a bet?'

"Um...what do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"If I loose, I'll give you my lollipop. If you loose, I get to dare you to do something!"

"I...I don't think so..." Arthur replied, still not blinking.

"What are you? Chicken?"

"Yeah! C'mon Artie! Do it!"

"Ugh, fine. But don't call me that."

"Artie~!"

Arthur's eye twitched with annoyance, and the little kid got excited. "I'm going to win!~"

"You will not, you little brat! And DO NOT CALL ME THAT!"

"Art-eh. Don't call him a brat! That's mean!"

"Yeah, that's mean! Jerk!"

"I am not a jerk! And Alfred, I swear! My. Name. Is. Arthur!"

"Whatever you say. Art."

"ARG!" Arthur screamed, blinking.

"I WIN!" The kid screeched, slapping Alfred a high-five and doing the best victory dance possible to do whilst on a tree. "Alright, Alright. you won. Throw a party. Now, tell me the dare. To lick the tree? Eat a worm? What?"

The little boy shook his head, and then scratched his chin in a gesture of deep thought. In fact, he looked almost as if he was too deep in thought, as if he was acting.

"Alright!" He said, throwing a single finger in the air. "I've got it!"

"I dare you to..." The little boy paused for dramatic effect. (You should try this sometime, it works pretty well.)

"Kiss that guy!" He brought his finger down to Alfred, who looked shocked, to say the least.

"What? No!"

"You have to! It's a dare!"

"I most certainly do not have to!"

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

"Yes you do yes you do yes you do!" Elizabeta whispered.

"Really," Francis sighed, crossing his arms. "No sportsmanship." (Says the Frenchman... -.-)

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

"YES YOU DO!"

"No I don't!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

The little boy jumped down from the branch, and stared up at them menacingly. "Yes, you do."

"Artie..." Alfred said, slinking closer to Arthur. He looked strangely...erotic... "It was a dare..."

"Yeah!" The little kid agreed, far below them. Not that Arthur heard. He was to busy looking at shockingly blue eyes. Wait a minute, they were getting bigger. No, they were getting closer! OH MY GOD THEY WERE GETTING CLOSER!

And then Alfred kissed him.

...

On the forehead.

...

...

...

Oh.

The little boy was no where to be seen. It's like he showed up, changed Arthur life, and then WHOOSH! Gone. Where he went, we may never know.

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

"Okay, good job, kid. But next time, make sure to say the lips, okay?"

Oh. There he is.

He nodded, and saluted like a soldier. "Ma'am yes ma'am!" Elizabeta nodded her approval, and handed the boy a crisp twenty dollar bill. "If I'm ever in need of staring services, I'll be sure to contact you."

The little boy saluted once more, about faced, and then marched back to the playground.

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

_Now _there was the awkward moment. Arthur couldn't find his tongue, he hoped it wasn't lolling out of his mouth like some animalistic sex-deprived pervert (a.k.a Francis.)

And Alfred, the idiot, was just smiling obliviously. "What?"

"You git."

"Artie! That was mean!"

* * *

><p>The kid was Sealand. ^_^<p>

So, tell me, my lovely little lemon drops, what is this "place" Gilbert keeps mentioning? Where do you think Canada and Prussia should go for their first date?

Oh, also, I'd like to know if you think I'm taking things to fast. I do that often.

Flames make the sun. I need the sun.

Review, Fave, Alert if your caps lock button is lower case, but all the letter keys are capitalized.

Oh~ One other thing,

I would appreciate it if you would check out another story I'm writing, Called "Fifty Fifty". It's a collection of diaries from The Sates of America! But, if you are not from America, or do not have a vast knowledge of our states, it may be hard to understand.

Thanks for reading!


	9. 303 things to do at Walmart

Bonjour, mon amis. Comment ca'va? Je comme ci comme ca.

*Warning* Cursing! And...things...

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, Wal-mart, McDonalds, Target, Percy Jackson, or the beach. Because if I did, I would make sure the world knew.

* * *

><p>"Gilbert."<p>

"What?"

"When are we going to 'the place'?"

"This is the place, birdie!"

"This is WAL-MART."

Gilbert nodded and smiled. "Yeah!"

_He can't be serious…This isn't real…_

Suddenly, Matthew came to a realization. The whole thing had been a prank. Of course. That explains everything. I mean, why would anyone, especially Gilbert, want to go out with someone like…

Well, someone like Mattie?

Gilbert was smiling and talking, probably waiting for Matthew to catch on.

Things like this usually didn't happen to Matthew. He wasn't entirely sure what to do. Most of the time, people don't even notice him there. It's like he just blends into the background, no matter how red his sweater is.

"It's okay, Gil. I get it."

"Huh?"

"Jokes over! I get it! Ha-ha. Now, if you excuse me, I should probably be getting home to some paper work." Matthew turned, feeling incredibly downhearted.

"Birdie!" Gilbert called, catching his arm. "What are you talking about?"

"Well Gil, I have to say, it's a creative prank. Asking someone out and then taking them to Wal-Mart. Really. But I should be getting home."

Gilbert looked confused. "It's not a prank." he said. "I wanted to do the three-hundred and three things to do at Wal-Mart!"

Matthew stopped. "What?" He asked, his mouth hanging open much like a dead person who was shot in the jaw, causing their mouth to permanently stay open, looks like.

"Yeah!" Gilbert said. "It'll be awesome! First, let's go set up one of the tents in the outdoor section…."

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

Arthur, to put it simply, was freaking out. And not the kind of freaking out, like: oh-crap-I-forgot-to-do-my-homework. No, he was full on, oh-holly-fuck-that-lady-just-gave-birth-to-a-devil! Freaking out.

And Alfred….

Well, Alfred was thinking about hamburgers.

(How do I know? Don't you know all authors have psychic powers?)

Alfred smiled. He should go get a hamburger. Or two. And he should bring Arthur. Does Arthur like hamburgers? Bah! Who doesn't? Arthur's pretty cool. And stuff…

"Arthur, let's go to McDonalds!"

"Huh? Why?" _Does he mean like a date? OH GOD NO._

"I want a hamburger!"

"WE JUST ATE."

"Artie, that was at least, like, twenty minutes ago. I'm hungry."

"Oh no!" Arthur said, crossing his arms. "You have literally done nothing all day but eat. We are NOT going- WHAAA!"

Alfred tossed Arthur over his shoulder, and jumped down from the branch, as if he were nothing more than a unusually large pillow. "PUT ME DOWN OR I SWEAR I'LL MURDER YOU!"

"HAHAHA! It's take more than that to kill a hero, Artie!"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

"Gil! This has to be illegal!"

"So what? Kesesese~!"

Gilbert and Matthew had set up a tent in the outdoors section, or rather, Matthew set it up, while Gilbert harassed employees.

They were currently hunched inside it, whispering like it wasn't completely obvious they were in there.

"Um, hello?" Someone asked, from outside. It was a little blond kid, he was clutching a twenty dollar bill for some reason.

"Wow! This is so cool!" He exclaimed. "Can I come in?"

"Sure! Kesese~!" Gilbert smiled. "But first you have to bring in as many pillows as you can carry. They're probably close to the bed sheets."

The little kid nodded and sped off.

"Gilbert! We're going to get kicked out!"

"Aw! Don't worry birdie! Just have fun!" Gilbert said, draping his arm over Matt's shoulders.

"What, exactly, do you mean by 'fun'?"

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

"I hate you." Arthur said, from across the table. Alfred pouted through a mouthful of hamburger, which is rather disturbing. "Arteh!"

"Don't call me that. I hate you."

Alfred swallowed (how did he fit all that down his throat?) and resumed pouting. "But Artie, I won't be able to see you tomorrow! So this is like a goodbye!"

"Huh? What do you mean you won't see me tomorrow?"

"Well, you're staying at my house again, right?"

Arthur's eyes widened. "How did you know I needed a place to stay?"

Alfred smiled. (He's pretty good at smiling.) "I'm the hero!"

"Or you over-heard Francis on the phone."

"Okay, okay. Maybe. But the point is, even if you stay at my house tomorrow, I'll be going to class."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, weekends can't last forever. And we have a huge exam coming up so I can't skip."

"Exam…?"

"Yeah! For physical science! That class isn't so bad, it's English that kills me."

"How are you bad at your own language?"

Alfred frowned. "Grammar is so stupid. I mean, if you get what I'm saying, who cares?"

Arthur looked thoroughly offended. "Grammar is extremely important!"

"Nuh-uh."

"Yes it is."

"Nuh-uh."

"I'm not doing that again."

"Yuh-huh!"

"I hate you."

"Artie!"

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

"Gilbert!" Matthew laughed, punching the albino lightly on his arm.

"Kesese!~ Did you see his face? Priceless!" Matthew laughed again. "Best. Day. Ever!"

Gilbert took his hand and calmly and pulled him to a side street. "It's not over yet!"

Matthew looked bewildered, but stumbled after him nonetheless. "Gil, where are we going now? And tell me for real this time. I don't want to end up at Target!"

"Kesese~! It's okay birdie! We're going to the beach!" Gilbert responded.

Oh, the beach. A wondrous thing, let me tell you. They have old people, fat people (who really _should not be wearing that_…) screaming children, and Mexicans trying to sell you ice-cream. What could be better? Oh! That's right! I almost forgot the best part!

Those god damn seagulls.

'nuff said.

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

Alfred walked out of the well-known American restaurant, with a very glum Englishman trailing him. Not only was he pissed at Alfred for bringing him to freaking _McDonalds _(Not that he ate anything, of course) but he was also a little sad (sad? SAD? Did I say sad? What I meant to say was overjoyed! Because he definitely did NOT like Alfred.) because he wouldn't see Alfred again for a while.

And, because he came to that realization, he found another conclusion. (Oh, the wonders of science.)

His life would go right back to his normal depressing, drunk, terrible existence. Sure, maybe Alfred (being the hero he is) managed to brighten it for a while but…

Arthur's brother was still dead. And he was still the stupid, depressed, self-conscious idiot he'd been ever since his brother's death. What could Alfred possibly do to make things okay again?

"Artie, are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh. Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking is all."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He did. More than anything in the world. He wanted to sit down, cry his eyes out, and tell Alfred his life story. He knew Alfred wouldn't judge. He'd probably sit there and smile and ask if they could go get some more hamburgers. But…

Damn his pride! It always gets in the way of my yaoi! Honestly, the only person who's worse than Arthur is Romano, but I'm not going to go there. (Shut the fuck up, Bastard!)

"No…"

Alfred stared at him for a while. "Okay, Artie. But I'll be right here if you do ever feel like talking."

_Will you? Or will you leave me too? _(Haha. I suck at writing angst. I'm much better at humor. God, I'll never try that again. It was almost painful, typing those words.)

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

Gilbert and Matthew walked down a boardwalk, hand-in-hand. Dear lord, they are cute!

But anyways, it was all romantic and shit. E.g. sunset, empty beach, little guitar music in the background, whatever floats your boat.

And Gilbert got all caught up in the moment. (it's just so touching :']) and he leaned over and kissed Matthew. Who the hell cares about taking it slow? Matthew has a nice ass.

Matthew, on the other hand, had exploded. Like, mushroom-cloud worthy explosion. Like, oh-my-god-we'll-never-get-that-stain-out EXPLODED.

So, Gilbert picked up Matthew's slack, and leaned in more.

Gilbert mumbled/snickered/mind-raped into the kiss.

But Matthew…

"FFFFFFU-"

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

"Artie! OH MY GOD!"

"What is it now?"

"IT'S OUT!"

"Huh?"

"The new Percy Jackson book! WHY HAS NO ONE TOLD ME?"

"Book? You…read?"

"Well, not normally. But this guy is beast. He's like the hero of hero's."

(Haha, get it? Hero? Demigod? No? I'll go cry then…)

"I can't believe you…actually read…"

"Well, of course I do! What do you think they teach us in school? How to eat burgers and shoot guns?"

"Well, actually-"

"I need to buy it. Artie, do you have a five I can borrow?" Alfred walked into the bookstore. "'cause I'm only a few bucks short."

Arthur thought about his meager cash, (he did have a five, it was from a bet he won with Francis…not going there…) but he still found himself handing over the cash to Alfred. "You owe me."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay."

Alfred took both the book and money to the counter, where a tall buff blonde was standing. (Well, the other tall, buff, blonde.)

The American had just handed the man the book, when a very loud brunette flung the door open. "Ludy!" He cried, jumping over the counter (damn…) and into the arms of the poor, innocent salesman.

"Feliciano! I told you not to barge into the store before my shift is over!"

"But I wanted to see you, ve!"

Arthur leaned closer to the two. "Feliciano?" He asked.

"Ve? Oh! Arthur! You seem better! I'm happy!"

The blonde pushed the Italian off of him, and resumed checking out Alfred's book as if nothing had happened.

"Have you seen Romano lately? It's been lonely ever since he moved in with Antonio. Ve…"

"Yes, actually. We ate lunch with them and Gilbert, Francis and this oaf's brother."

"Artie! That's mean!"

"Ve!"

"That'll be fourteen seventy five."

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

"UUUUUUCK."

Well, he said it in his head anyways. After a while, Gilbert got bored of him not kissing back and pulled away, looking at him expectantly.

Matthew tried to say something, he really really did. But the only thing that plopped out of his mouth like a wet dog out of the car is "maple…."

* * *

><p>I. AM. SO. LOVED!<p>

I got like, three favs! Me! Not this story! BUT ME AS AN AUTHOR! :D

THANK YOU SO FRICKIN MUCH!

Also, thanks for all the reviews, and bearing with me as I struggle for a stable plot ^^ '

Anywho~

I have to disperse some of the love that was given to me, before my heart explodes. So I baked it into imaginary cookies. You may have two!

Just to let you all know, Alfred is nothing like me. English rules, science kills me. With spoons. So...da.

Also, I would like to thank my wonderful reviewer:MDWOLFGIRL for giving me the Walmart idea! You inspire me!

Please review! It's like, fifty degrees, and my Floridian skin would really appreciate some flames right now.

Sorry for mistakes! I'm American!

-Mallory


	10. SEXUAL TENSION

Hey guys! Sorry about not updating for 47 hours (how could you go on?) But homework and other excuses...

Disclaimer:  I ran out of witty comments to put here. Sorry to disappoint. I DIS MY CLAIMS!

*WARNING* Um...Yaoi. And the usually cursing. No lemons though! My relationships don't develop THAT fast.

* * *

><p>Alfred handed the cashier (his name tag said 'Ludwig') the money and took the book. "Thanks." He said with a nod.<p>

"Ludy! Ludy!" The Italian cried, pulling on the man's sleeve. "Is your shift over? Can we go now?"

The blonde huffed. "Fine."

"Ve! I can't wait!"

"Where are you guys going?" Alfred asked, watching Ludwig hang up his apron. "Ve! We're going to that big fancy museum nearby!"

"Oh! The one with all the divisions? Like history, space.."

"Ve! Yeah! We're going to the art section!"

Alfred turned to Artie in a manner that mirrored the way Feli had down so to Ludwig. "Artie!" He said, tugging on his sleeve (like I said, the similarity was uncanny) "Let's go too!"

Arthur looked confused for a moment. "Alfred, I think they want to go alone."

"Huh? Well we can split up when we get there. I don't care."

"Ve! You guys can come!"

Arthur looked at Feli. "But isn't meant to be like a date or-"

Ludwig walked over and interrupted. "I don't mind."

"Ve! Yay! Let's go!"

"Like, cool yo!"

"SPEAK ENGLISH FOR GOD'S SAKE."

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

Matthew looked at Gilbert, then behind him. Maybe, if he ran really fast, he could get away. But Gilbert looked pretty strong…and fast. Get your head out of the gutter…

Gilbert, on the other hand, was thinking more along the lines of:

_Matthew has a really nice ass…I want to touch it. Touch. It._

I know, he's a dirty pervert.

Anyways, poor Matthew eventually calmed down enough to ask "What the hell, Gil?"

"Can I feel your ass?"

"WHAT? NO!"

Gilbert looked disappointed. "Why not?"

"B-because! Y-you you can't j-just ask something like that! I-I-I…"

"Then will you at least kiss me back?"

Matthew stopped his mumbling. He didn't really have a choice, Gilbert's lips were on his again.

_ohcrapohcrapohcrap_

But something (me? No! It wasn't me! Why would you think that?) grabbed Matthew by the shoulders and shook some sense into him (theoretically). And, before he knew it, his lips started moving. And he was kissing Gilbert.

_Oh, holly crap I'm kissing him. I'm kissing- wait!_

Matthew pushed Gilbert off him and slapped him on the arm.

"You CANNOT feel my butt!"

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

Feliciano, Ludwig, Arthur and Alfred walked down a pretty nice sidewalk. The first two hand in hand, the later about to get into a fight.

Well, more like Arthur was punching Alfred while the American laughed heartily. But that's not important.

The important thing is that Arthur had come to a realization. It went a little something like:

_Huh. Alfred isn't even batting an eye at those two. I mean, it's obvious they're dating. Doesn't he care? Does he except gays that easily? Is he gay? Oh god, he probably thinks I'M gay! That's four friends now, that are gay. Five if you include Francis. But- _

_Wait. I am gay! Who cares? WHY DO I CARE IF HE CARES?_

Oh, Arthur, you silly little thing.

"Ve! We're here!"

Alfred glanced up, surprised. "Wow! I didn't even notice!"

Ludwig looked at him, a bit annoyed. "Well maybe if you two would stop releasing sexual tensions and walk like _normal_ people, you would have."

"What are 'sexual-"

Arthur clamped a hand over Alfred's mouth. "First off, I'll tell you when you're older. Second, WE WERE NOT!"

"Whatever you say." Ludwig shrugged.

"Ve!"

"I hate it when people say 'when you're older'…"

They pushed open the doors and opened a very fancy and over-extensive lobby. A large pole stood in the middle of the thing. Multiple signs were attached to it, they read things like "Arts" "Mammals" "Space" "trolls" and "History".

Ludwig and Feli began heading towards the arts section. The Italian turned and waved at them. "See you guys later!"

Once they were out of sight, Alfred turned to Arthur with a smile. "Well! Where do you want to go, Artie?"

Arthur glanced towards the Arts section, as if he could just catch up with the odd couple and hide from Alfred the rest of his life.

But sadly, he could not.

"What about World History?" He suggested, waiting for Alfred's reaction.

"Okay!" He said, heading off in that direction.

_He doesn't mind History…?_

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

"Ow! Ow! Birdie, stop!"

Matthew paused for a moment, thought about it, and then resumed punching Gilbert. "NO!"

"Ouch! Please?"

"No!"

Gilbert grabbed the American's (-oops, Canadian's) Arms and held them. He leaned over and kissed him again, the horny bastard.

And Matthew kissed back.

And now we'll go back to our regularly scheduled program, so you have some time to mop the blood off your keyboard.

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

"Haha! So that's why people say Pardon my French!"

(If you really want to know, here:

When the Normans invaded England in 1066, Anglo Saxon, which was the English of the day was outlawed and not allowed to be used in official documents, courts and business. This got relaxed after a while, and English derived from the combination of Middle French and Anglo Saxon. Even though Anglo Saxon was no longer outlawed, it was still considered vulgar and only lower classed people [anglo saxon and not the Norman descendants] would speak it.I believe the phrase started because many Anglo Saxon words have continued to be considered vulgar, but the English in their quaint manner, blame the French for the words, instead of their own Anglo Saxon roots.

Fabulous. You have expanded your _inmoratique_.)

Moving on:

"Ooh! Artie, look! They have a revolutionary war section! Let's go see!"

Arthur followed Alfred into the exhibit, glancing around at the guns and other artifacts. He was still surprised at the young man, he almost seemed…intelligent.

Throughout the day he had spouted random facts; 'I read so and so on the internet' 'I think this was on the news' 'I had to do a report on…' and so on.

It really got Arthur curious.

"Alfred, what's your major?"

"Huh? You mean like in college?" Alfred asked, turning to face Arthur.

The Englishman nodded.

"Oh. I actually haven't decided yet. I'm just taking classes that interest me for now. I'm still a freshman."

Arthur nodded. "Oh. Okay…"

_Freshman._

_That makes him seem so young…_

* * *

><p>Aw! Is this Arthur and Alfred's first date? I THINK NOT. Don't worry, <em><br>_our sexy American friend might maybe possibly mess it up.

Critique? WRITE IT.

Flames? Cool with me. Or rather...hot...

The word "more" spelled incorrectly followed by "Txt langwage". DON'T BOTHER.

Thanks for reading! I love you all! Except you. No, the other one. Yes. YOU. I don't love you.

Sorry for any mistakes, I'm American!

-Mallory


	11. Hi shoes! Bye, Dinner!

Disclaimer: It's late, I have nothing witty. I DON'T OWN HETALIA. Or Twix.

* * *

><p>"Hey!" Alfred said, dragging Arthur over to a gun. "I used to have one of these!" He said.<p>

Arthur looked at the American as if he had gone a bit insane.

But given, he was already insane, so Arthur shrugged it off. "You used to have one? A war relic from the seventeen hundreds?"

Alfred nodded, and let go of Arthur's arm (when did he grab it?) "Yeah!" He said. "I think it's still in the storage room. I'll have to ask Mattie."

"You just keep a gun in your storage room?"

"Well, yeah. Where else would I put it? In a safe?"

Arthur shook his head and mumbled something about 'bloody Americans' .

But they went on about their…

_IT WASN'T A DATE! No, why would you think that? Because if it was a date, then Alfred would have asked me come with him…_

_Well who the bloody hell goes to the museum for a date?_

_Besides Feli and Ludwig._

A couple walked past Arthur, hand in hand and laughing. _And besides them._

He spotted another couple making out in the corner. And another one sitting on the bench. And a pair of old folks walking along slowly…

_WHAT THE HELL? What's with all the couples?_

Needless to say, the rest of the day was rather painful for Arthur.

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

So after Matthew's general freak out, and Gilbert's many tries at grabbing said Canadian's ass, they decided to leave, because it was getting a bit cold out, besides the fact that it was almost July.

They went out to a little restaurant on the beach. It was packed, being a Sunday night. Gilbert and Mattie managed to find a spot at the bar. After a long wait and quite a few drinks, their food finally arrived.

But by that time, they were both completely wasted.

"MATTIE! WHERE'D YOU GO?"

"I'm right here! You're…You're _un con_!"

"A What?"

"An Asshole!"

"Speaking of ass…"

"NO! GIL!"

Gilbert ordered two more beers. "Aw, fine. But you have to drink this."

Matthew eyed the beer suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because you need to be drunk enough."

"Drunk enough for what?"

"This." Gilbert leaned over and practically ate Matthew's face off.

Matthew was fine with it at first…but then he realized how much Gilberts mouth tasted like beer. And how his _own_ mouth tasted like beer.

_How many did I have? Five? I don't feel to good… Oh god…I really don't feel good!_

And then Matthew introduced Gilberts shoes to his dinner.

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

By the time the museum was closing, Arthur was close to a mental breakdown. The whole time, he was comparing himself and Alfred to random passing-by couples. And they fit.

A perfect match.

Alfred would ask where Arthur wanted to go next. He grabbed onto his arm, opened doors, smiled, joked around. He kept talking about school, and summer classes. He talked about Matthew, and he asked Arthur about his life.

AND ARTHUR ANSWERED BACK.

Even when Alfred asked if he was a virgin.

WHAT THE HELL?

Why would someone ask that? Of course Arthur had said yes. He was a virgin. But the second that slipped out of his mouth, he regretted it. But freaking oblivious Alfred just got distracted by something shiny, and he dragged Arthur over to go look at it.

It's like it didn't matter to him if Arthur had said yes or no.

And for some odd reason, that bothered Arthur.

So, while they were walked down the cobblestone sidewalk, their shadows growing and shrinking with the street lamps, Arthur opened his stupid little mouth and asked:

"So, are you a virgin, Alfred?"

"Yep!" Alfred answered immediately.

"Oh. Okay." Arthur looked down, trying not to so much as glance at the man walking beside him.

But he had no reason to fret, because, after all, this was Alfred we were talking about.

"Artie! I forgot! Dinner!"

"Huh?"

"We should grab something to eat!"

Arthur shook his head. "I don't have any money." He felt embarrassed, but as he watched Alfred turn out his pockets, even in that stupid brown bomber jacket, his worries frazzled away.

Alfred was a college student. He wasn't exactly loaded.

"Oh." Alfred said, coming up with a paper clip, a piece of candy, and the book he bought earlier.

"Well!" He said, beginning to unwrap the candy bar. "We'll have to make do until we get home!" He split the thing in half, and held one side to Arthur.

"No thanks." Arthur said, pushing away Alfred's hand.

"You don't like Twix?" He asked, an expression that mirrored that of someone who was just told their mother died.

"I've never had it."

"YOU'VE NEVER EATEN TWIX?" Alfred screamed.

"Alfred! Hush! Some people might be sleeping!"

"YOU HAVE TO TRY IT NOW!" Alfred continued, ignoring Arthur's nagging.

Arthur shook his head and looked away, crossing his arms. "No."

"Please Artie?"

"No."

Alfred literally got down on his knees, and grabbed Arthur's hand with his free one. He held aloft the candy bar like it was some precious jewel. He looked into Arthur's green eyes, his best kicked-puppy expression. "Please, Artie?"

_ohcrapohcrapohcrap_

_No. No. Don't do it. Just don't look! Yes! This will work- Shit. Okay…resist…resist…c'mon, Arthur old boy you can do this…I can do this…Shit. I can't do this._

Arthur grabbed the now melted chocolate bar and stuffed it in his mouth. Alfred let loose something close to a 'fan girl scream'. He jumped up and pulled the Brit to his chest.

"Aw! Thanks Artie!"

'Artie' continued chewing angrily. Almost…relaxing against Alfred.

Alfred, who had chosen to be oblivious all day, noticed. He smiled and rubbed the blonde's back. He chuckled to himself quietly, blaming it on the chocolate.

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

Gilbert walked towards his apartment. He shared it with Francis, Antonio, and a recently added Romano. It was pretty big, but Matthew would have to sleep in his bed, because usually Romano made Antonio sleep on the couch. Unless they were….yeah.

So, Gilbert made his way up the stairs with Matthew over his shoulder, completely passed out. He unlocked the door and immediately went to his room, throwing Matthew on his bed.

Then he took off his shoes and took a shower.

Once he dressed in a pair of sweatpants, he went to the kitchen to grab a snack, only to find a certain Frenchman there.

He was sitting at the table, his hands folded in front of him. "So. You are home."

"Yeah…" Gilbert said, grabbing a bag of Doritos and sitting across from Francis.

"What, precisely, have you been doing all night?"

"Francis, it's nine O' clock."

Francis shook his head. "Don't avoid the question!"

"I was out with Mattie!"

"AHA!" Francis stood up, pointing his finger accusingly. "I KNEW IT!"

"No shit Sherlock. You were there when I asked him out."

"…"

"…"

"oh."

Gilbert faced-palmed, actually face-palmed, for the first time in his life. "I'm going to bed."

"_Bonne Nuit_!" Francis cried with a wave, happily strolling to his room.

Gilbert sighed, passing Antonio on the couch, flipping through the t.v. channels.

"Night Antonio."

"¡_Buenas noches_!"

Gilbert entered his room, patted Gilbird in his nest, and curled up next to Mattie, his buzz already fading.

**OoOoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoOoO**

Arthur pulled away, much to Alfred's disappointment. He liked hugging Arthur. He was cute!

"It was okay." Arthur told him.

At first, the American thought he was talking about the hug. But then he realized he was referring to the chocolate. He had completely forgotten about the candy.

And he NEVER forgets about candy.

"Hmmm…" Alfred said, beginning to walk to his house again.

Arthur followed him, nagging him about how chocolate is bad for you, and blah blah blah.

When they finally got home, Alfred made some canned soup and they ate in silence.

After dinner, he and Arthur watched some movie about football. It was around eleven by the time it was over.

Arthur was curled up next to Alfred, his head on the American's shoulder.

Alfred turned off the T.V. and shifted so he could sleep too.

And soon, he was closing his eyes.

* * *

><p>fasd;flhkwer;bergegq3;o48ty314-986v;z'xcfjwr;g/'

Hey guys. Do you know how late it is?

Not late at all.

But I need to be getting to bed, I have school tomorrow. And I need to take a shower...

So, I didn't proofread this before posting. This poured straight out of my mind and onto the screen, so sorry if it doesn't make any sense. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! I'll get back to you ASAP.

Thanks for reading, my pretties! And Your little reviews too!

Sorry for any mistakes, I'm American!

-Mallory


	12. Waking up in his arms

Hello, my lovely little lemon drops. This is the Gradual Report. Where we; Gradually report! (If you know where this is from, tell me. I will love you forever)

***WARNING* **The usual cursing, and fluff! (I could open a build-a-bear!)

There is some foreign language in this fine but short chapter. But do not fret! For I have included translations in the author's note! Oh, and if they're wrong, feel free to tell me. But I probably won't change it, because I'm lazy and I trust Google translate with my very soul.

Disclaimer: If you believe that the world will end in 2012, then I own Hetalia.

* * *

><p>Matthew woke up in a strange room that smelled of stale beer.<p>

Or wait…maybe it was him that smelled like beer…

Something beside him mumbled "No! Don't...want…whiskey…want…beer…"

And that's when Matthew realized there were arms around him. And that he couldn't remember what happened last night.

Who had he been with?

Oh god, Gilbert.

And that brings us to how Gilbert was woken up:

A punch in the face.

"_Scheiße_!"

**OoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoO**

Arthur woke up in a similar position of Matthew. He just had a different reaction.

"Bloody git! Get off me this instant! Unhand me!" He screeched, followed by vicious wriggling.

"Uwagh?" Alfred asked, his head snapping up, still bleary with sleep.

"Get off of me you wanker!"

"Artie~ Stop making up words. It's early and it's a Monday…" Alfred froze, causing Arthur to stop moving for just enough time to ask "What is it?"

"IT'S MONDAY!" Alfred yelled, jumping up, causing Arthur to fall on the floor, and simultaneously kicked Alfred in the stomach.

But the American took it like a man, saying: "Least it wasn't lower, I know the author thought about it…"

"STOP BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL AND TELL ME WHAT'S SO BLOODY IMPORTANT ABOUT MONDAY'S!"

"Crap!" The American cried, running down the hallway and coming back in only boxers.

Arthur was starting to doubt the young man's mental stability.

"ALFRED!" He cried, as the American ran into the kitchen and started stuffing pop tarts into his mouth.

"Alfred! Listen to me when I'm talking to you! Alfred?"

Alfred ran down the hallway again, still chewing. He gave a muffled "Jus ah shec!"

Arthur crossed him arms, and stood waiting for him, tapping his foot.

Alfred came rushing down the hallway, grabbing a book bag of an end table wedged in the corner. "Sorry Artie!" He cried, stuffing books into the bag. "I'm late for class! The prof is gonna murder me!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. (-Ahem- if you didn't catch that: _ARTHUR _raised an eyebrow)

"Oh fine, mom!" Alfred sighed, coming closer and bending down (this irritated Arthur to no end) to look the Englishman in the eyes. "I'm going to school now, _mother_. Love you. See you later." He pecked the blonde on the cheek and practically ran out of the room, probably to catch a bus.

(Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Arthur.)

Arthur just about fainted onto the couch. "Love you. See you later" WHAT, PRECISELY, DID THAT MEAN?

He _kissed _him. KISSED HIM.

Well, on the cheek, after calling him "mother" but still!

**OoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoO**

"ANTONIO! FRANCIS! HELL, ROMANO! HELP ME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" Gilbert screamed.

Matthew pinned him against the wall, a broken beer bottle in hand. "God? Oh, there's no god here, Gil."

"Please! I'm too awesome to die!"

Francis threw open the door, yelling "WHATSGOINGONINHERE?"

Gilbert cried out in joy, but Matthew snarled and threw a sausage (WTF?) at the Frenchman.

"_tu savez ce que c'est mieux, vous partirez d'ic_." Matthew growled.

The Frenchman raised his hands, and slowly backed out of the room whispering: "Sorry, Gil but I'm a lover, not a fighter…"

"Please don't leave me…"

**OoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoO**

Arthur, was, needless to say, very, very bored. He hadn't thought, much of his life before he met Alfred, but now that the Americans rather overpowering presence was gone, he couldn't help but notice how terribly boring his life had been.

He scrambled around for something to do.

After suffering through some terrible American soap operas, he gave up, and found a empty notebook and a pencil. Sitting at the small kitchen table, Arthur began to write.

_I am stupid. I really am. Is this any way to become less bored? Agh, well, it's better than Leave It To Beaver… _(bieber, sorry, had to say it)

_Um…_

_Blue as bright._

_Dim as night._

_Your smile,_

_My only light._

_My fabric time_

_Is ripped and burned._

_Can't change it now,_

_The table's turned._

_Like suns rise_

_And stars glow_

_I want you, need you,_

_To realize, to know._

"Where…Where the hell did that come from? Arthur asked.

Scared of the answer, he shoved in one of the cabinets under the sink and busied himself with reruns until Alfred would come home.

**OoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoO**

"_Vais tu castrer et la force d'avance de votre bite pour tu_!" Mattie whispered, a soft smile playing at his lips.

Gilbert had tried everything. Kissing him, bribing him, fighting back, calling for Antonio and Romano (who left in quite a hurry) even offering his soul to the devil (apparently, Satin wasn't interested).

He had quite a few bruises and cuts, and Matthew looked like a god, one with a awesome ass, but an evil ass.

Finally Gilbert just coked out "WE DIDN'T DO IT!"

"_Qu'est-ce_?" Matt asked, cocking his head to the side.

"We didn't have sex! You puked on my shoes instead! I promise!"

Matthew stared at him blankly for a while, the thoughts slowly clicking in his mind. He backed off slowly, and sat down on Gilbert's bed.

Gilbert was about to say something super awesome like: "Why, did you want to?"

But Matthew burst out laughing before he could say:

"Holy shit he has a nice ass and I want to fuck him. Well Mattie, what do you say? No? To bad! You're Canadian, you probably won't press charges. Wait-your brothers an American, isn't he? Never mind."

**OoOoOoO**

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

><p><strong>"<em>Scheiße<em>!"- Shit! (German)**

**"_Tu savez ce que c'est mieux, vous partirez d'ic_."- If you know what is good for you, you will leave. (French)**

**"_Vais tu castrer et la force d'avance de votre bite pour tu_!"- I will castrate you and force feed your dick to you! (French)  
><strong>

**"_Qu'est-ce_?"- What? (French)**

Aheheheh~ Artie wrote a poem! HORRAY! Maybe Alfred will find it? Probably not. Because I'm not a much of the cliche types, am I?

REVIEW! Flames are welcome, I want to roast some weenies.

Sorry for any mistakes! (And breaking the fourth wall-AGAIN!) I'm American!

-Mallory


	13. Update Please don't kill me

Hello! Please don't kill me. This isn't another chapter (although the next chapter is on it's way.)

FIRST! In our long list of official business (don't worry, I'll make it as fun as possible for you) I would like to ask you for critique/suggestions for the next chapter. I promise I'll consider all your ideas! I WILL. *cough* consider *cough*

Anyways, second I would like to tell you something. (It's a secret).

I am currently writing another story based off a you tube video. Here's the link:

[((dot))]com/watch?v=WmTM8AIAOIQ

replace [((dot))] with a period.

Would you all read it? If so, would you like me to write a chapter story, or a oneshot? Remember, I'm only one girl, so I might be slower getting out chapters for this story. (But I basically update every night, so...)

Last! But certainly not least!

Thanks all of you for reading this story and this update. I appreciate all of the feedback. I really do. Every time I see someone has added me a a favorite author, I dance around the room. (My mom has stopped asking...)

Sorry for any mistakes, I'm American!


	14. Hi

Hey guys! I'm really proud of this chapter! I'll love you if you read the Author's note at the end of this! But you'll have to, because there's translations there. MWAHAHA!

As usual, the translation's are probably incorrect. Google Translate is a compulsive liar.

Disclaimer: I dis my claims.

* * *

><p>By the time Alfred got home, things had gotten a bit…messy.<p>

At some point during the day, Matthew had barged into his apartment (scaring the crap out of Arthur) and was screaming at the top of his lungs in French.

Gilbert followed him in, scratches and bruises covering his pale skin, apologizing in German.

Their scream fest continued (much to Arthur's irritation) until Alfred came home.

"_J'espère que vous êtes assassiné par un clown_!"

"_weiß gar nicht verstehen, was du sagst! Es tut mir leid_!"

The door swung open, revealing a smiling American. "Hey! I'm ba- what the hell?"

Arthur got up from the couch, where he had been lying in defeat, and ran up to Alfred. "THANK GOD! Make it stop! For the love of god, MAKE IT STOP!"

Alfred looked from Arthur, to the arguing couple, and back again. It was strange, because he didn't even know what they were saying, but it reminded him of the way he and Arthur went back and forth…

Alfred was about to open his mouth, probably to say something stupid, when a Frenchman burst in.

(Really, people have gotten so rude these days.)

"Stop releasing sexual tensions and shut up already!"

"Francis?" Arthur and Gilbert cried at the same time, standing in front of their respective love interests like they had rehearsed it.

Gilbert kept a protective hand on Matthew's shoulder, despite the Canadian's protests. He didn't like that gleam in Francis' eye…

Alfred didn't mind Arthur standing in front of him. In fact, he taped the Englishman on his shoulder and whispered. "Will you tell me what sexual tensions are _now_?"

"No! I most certainly will not! I said when you are older, and what I say goes!"

"But Artie~" Alfred whined. "I'm older now!"

"By a day!"

"That's still older, Artie~!"

Francis, at this point, looked extremely aggravated. One: Because Alfred and Arthur were fighting, _again _and they still weren't dating.

And Two:

Because Gilbert and Matthew were dating, and so now he had to refrain from groping the boy, or suffer getting beat up by Gilbert.

(And he had already been beaten to a pulp by the Albino's brother, over a small run-in with a certain Italian.)

"That is enough!"

**A/N: Germany? Ahaha…Sorry. Carry on.**

"Gil, and who-ever you are-"

"I'm Matthew!"

"Whatever you say, Mark. You and Gil need to stop fighting and kiss already! _Mon dieu_, what was the argument even about?"

The couple looked at each other briefly, then they both glanced away and mumbled something about sausages and maple syrup.

Francis turned to the other "couple".

"And you two! All you have done since you met is flirt, argue, and be idiots! Get it together already!"

Arthur glanced at Alfred nervously. Had he really been flirting? He wasn't even sure if Alfred knew how to…

But the American was to busy to pay either Francis or Arthur any attention, because he was currently google-ing "Sexual Tension" on his smart phone.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, reading the definition.

"**Sexual tension is a social phenomenon that occurs when two people interact and one or both feel sexual desire, but the consummation is postponed or never happens**"

Arthur's face drained, Francis snickered, and Matthew and Gilbert were no where to be seen.

(Matthew taught Gil how to turn invisible!)

"But why do you keep saying that me and Arthur-"

"Arthur and I" The Englishman corrected.

"Artie~! Let me talk!" Alfred whined, which caused Francis to smile. "Why do you keep saying that _Arthur and I _-See? Happy now?- have sexual tensions?"

"Because you do!"

"SHUT UP, FROG!"

"Artie~ I'm trying to listen!"

Francis smirked, sticking his tongue out at Arthur. "Oui, 'Artie' I he's trying to listen!"

"Shut the bloody hell up, frog. You and I both know what going on here and-"

Francis held up a finger. "And don't you think our dear Alfred deserves to know too?"

"DON'T TWIST MY WORDS!"

"Ohonhon~ I did no such thing!"

"YOU BLOODY-"

**OoOoOoOo**

**oOoOoOoO**

Matthew and Gilbert stood near a window in the Canadians bedroom. Their heads were bent in heated discussion, but I can't tell you what they were saying, because I never asked, and they never told me. But I can say that the blonde kept blushing, and the Prussian accentuated what he was saying with hand motions. After a few minutes, Gil gave the Canadian a short peck on the lips and bounded down the stairs, and out of the building.

But don't worry, we'll see him again.

Probably.

Maybe.

No promises.

ANYWAYS,

Matthew blushed once more and fell onto his bed, his blonde hair encircling his head like the rays of a rising sun. Or the mane of a lion or some other majestic who-ha.

He hugged his stuffed bear rather tightly, and whispered.

"_Je vais folle_…"

**OoOoOoOo**

**OOoOoOoO**

Now that our little interruption of unnecessary blabber has occurred, let's return to our regularly scheduled program.

Oh dear, it seems as though we missed something important.

Let me give you a brief filler-in.

Arthur tackled Francis, who we all know is a lover and not a fighter, so obviously he fell to the ground and made a witty but extremely sexual comment. This caused a enraged and emotionally confused Arthur to completely loose it, and his victim was powerless. Alfred, being the hero he is, swooped in a picked up a literally foaming-at-the-mouth Arthur, hold his arms tight to his sides. This gave Francis enough time to peel himself from the floor, with what little dignity he had left.

Alright, now that we're all caught up, let's move on.

Francis winced as he turned his neck the wrong direction, but carried on. He brushed off his (very expensive-mind you!) ruined clothes, and turned to Arthur, who was either trying to eat his way through Alfred's arm to escape, or he was _really really _hungry.

"Alfred." Francis said, after staring at Arthur with an indescribable expression on his face. (But if I were to try, I'd say it was a mix between a WTF face, pity, that-guy-is-psycho-face, and 'Hey, let's fuck!')

"What?" Alfred asked, flicking at Arthur's face.

"Just remember, he hasn't denied anything this whole time! Well- Adieu!"

And with that, Francis swooped out of the room.

Arthur stopped struggling and did his best to turn and look at Alfred, still trapped in his arms.

"Artie."

"What?"

…

…

…

"What?" Arthur asked again.

"I have something to tell you."

Arthur felt his heart speed up-could Alfred feel it too? "What is it, Al?" He asked.

"It's really important."

"I'm listening."

…

…

…

"Hi."

* * *

><p><strong><em>J'espère que vous êtes assassiné par un clown (French)-<em>**I hope you are murdered by a clown!

**_weiß gar nicht verstehen, was du sagst! Es tut mir leid (German)-_**I don't even know what you're saying! I'm sorry!

**__Mon dieu (French) -__**My god!

**__Oui (French)-__**Yes

**___Je vais folle_… (French)-__ **I'm going insane...

**__Adieu (French) -__ **Literally translated, it means may god go with you.

So, guess what guys? I got a beta! She'll start soon, she's a good friend of mine. Only she's a Franada fan, so it took me a while to convince her to read this. YOU'RE WELCOME!

**waytomuchadoaboutnothing-**

Girl, turn your PM-ing back on. How else am I going to stuff your inbox with review replies?

**XXxxNaRu-ChAnxxXX-**

Your screen name is to hard to type. Change it.

Thanks for the review!

**TacoPorn-**

Get a new screen name. End of conversation.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Thanks for everything, you guys! I love you all, despite your odd choice of names!

I need to stop being mean to you all...it's how you loose readers...

Sorry for any mistakes! I'm American!

-Mallory


	15. Parenting

Forgive me for the length of this chapter. I just really wanted to update, and this chapter is really important. We'll be having a time skip soon! I hope you all brought your tinfoil hats.

Disclaimer: I know it get's confusing sometimes, but I don't own Hetalia. Hidekaz Himaruya does. People mix us up all the time, what with our names being so similar.

* * *

><p>Matthew was lying on his bed, debating whether he should go to sleep, despite the fact it was four O' clock. Just when he was about to close his eyes, he heard a particularly large thump. He'd been hearing thumps since he went upstairs, but this one was definitely louder than all the others, suggesting that a larger weight was being thrown around. (A.K.A. Alfred). Matthew hauled himself out of bed and down the stairs. He turned the corner, and was met with a rather odd scene.<p>

Arthur was on top of Alfred, _(But not in that way, so get your head out of the gutter) _punching him, while saying one word over and over.

"HI! HI? HI?"

Matthew considered slowly backing out of the room, and going back up to bed, but for the sake of his brother, he decided to help him out.

"Whoa! Whoa! Arthur, what's going on?"

Arthur stopped punching Alfred (who didn't look too messed up) to turn and look at Matthew. One hand was clutching Alfred's collar, the other was still balled in a fist. He was sitting on the man's stomach, and his rather impressive eyebrows were practically touching his lips in an imitation of an angry emoticon.

"YOUR BROTHER IS RETARDED!" He yelled.

Matthew sighed, and nodded. "I know…"

"Hey!" Alfred said indignantly from the floor.

"I'm sorry…" Matthew said, running a hand through his hair. "What did he do this time?"

Oddly enough, Arthur blushed, and Alfred…

Was that a smirk?

No. Impossible. Alfred can't smirk. Smirking requires knowing something someone else does not.

"Um-uh…Well, you see…" Arthur said, his fist unclenching. "What happened was…uh…"

Alfred smiled in triumph-

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Triumph? That almost sounded like Alfred had a plan, or at least got an outcome he had strove for…

But that couldn't be right.

"Francis…He…uh-"

"He said we had sexual tensions!" Alfred added helpfully.

"Right…and then I tackled him and then…uh…"

"I held you back." Alfred reminded him.

"Oh! Right, so Alfred held me back and the frog got up and ran away…"

"No!" Alfred cried, trying to sit up. "You forgot the part where he said you haven't denied anything."

"Oh right!" Arthur looked thoughtful, then he continued in a French accent; "Remember, Alfred, he hasn't denied anything this whole time! Ohonhonhon~!"

"I don't think he laughed." Alfred corrected, still struggling.

"No. I most definitely heard laughter. But anyways, then this oaf here said he had something to tell me, his face was completely serious. I was still trapped in his arms, mind you. Rather awkward."

Alfred finally managed to sit up, which caused Arthur to fall into his lap. He either didn't notice or didn't care, because he released the mans collar and continued. "And the only thing he say is 'Hi' like it was completely normal! The git! So then I tackled _him _and started punching him."

"And that's when you came down!" Alfred finished happily, wrapping his arms around Arthur, who wasn't paying him any attention.

Matthew stared at the two open-mouthed. He expected this sort of behavior from Alfred, but Arthur?

He was going insane…

"Alfred." He heard Arthur whisper. "Why are you holding me?"

"We've been sitting like this for a while, Artie~"

"YOU DAMN GIT!"

**0o0o0o0o0o**

**o0o0o0o0o0**

After the couples' fight, (Arthur won) they all had dinner. Arthur attempted to cook, but failed miserably.

After the fire department left, Matthew ordered take-out. They all ate, but in the middle of dinner another argument started up between the Englishman and the American. Alfred had asked where Arthur was going to sleep, because he didn't want to sleep on the couch in the office. He said it was "lumpy".

"So why don't you just sleep on the couch down here, git?"

"Because it's scary down here all alone at night!"

"ARE YOU BLOODY FOUR?"

"I'm nineteen!"

"I KNOW."

"Then why'd you ask?"

Then _another _fist fight started up, and Matthew had gone through enough. "THAT'S IT!" He yelled.

He pulled Alfred off the couch and over to the corner. "You will stay right here, young man! Do you understand me? You will think about what you've done!"

"Yes, Matthew." Alfred muttered, looking down at his shoes.

Arthur let out a snort of amusement. But it was short-lived, as Matthew rounded on him. "AND YOU!" He yelled. "I'm not finished yet!"

"What are you going to do? Put me in time out?"

Matthew crossed his arms, and walked across the room. "No! YOU'RE GROUNDED!"

"Grounded?" Arthur exclaimed, wincing as Matthew grabbed his ear and began pulling him up the stairs. "How come I'm grounded and Alfred's only in timeout?"

"Because you're older and you should know better." Matthew said, like it was obvious.

"He's nineteen!"

"You're twenty four!"

"Twenty Three!"

**0o0o0o0o0o**

**o0o0o0o0o0**

Matthew paced in front of Arthur. "Do you know how long you're grounded?"

"No…"

"A week."

"A week!"

"Yes, a week. That's how long you'll be staying with Alfred and I, and that is how long you'll be grounded. Do you understand me?"

"yes, Matthew."

"Good. Now-" Matthew paused. "Hang on a second."

He turned towards the door, and screamed. "ALFRED!"

A squeak came from down stairs, followed by hurried footsteps. "How'd you know?" Came a reply.

"I'm a Matthew. We know these things."

**0o0o0o0o0o**

**o0o0o0o0o0**

* * *

><p><strong><strong>I told you it was short. BUT IT WAS A CRUCIAL CHAPTER!

So never forget it. NEVER.

**Update: **

**As you all know, I told you I was getting a beta. WELL I DIDN'T LIE. I am. She's just having computer issues right now, but she'll start soon! I PROMISE.**

Also, I love Mattie when he acts like a mom ^^' So sorry.

Sorry for any mistakes! My beta broke her laptop!

-Mallory

I LOVE YOU, MY LOVELY LITTLE LEMON DROPS!

Until next time, review!


	16. Romano is compasionate

Disclaimer: H is for Hetalia: which I do not own.

* * *

><p>Arthur snuck around the back of the house. It was somewhere in the very early hours of the morning. So early that even the crazy morning people were long from their dawn-waking.<br>The Englishman had always been quite good at sneaking around—he was practically a spy. But the grass was dry and brown from the summer heat, and it was one of those nights when absolutely nothing was out and you were too scared to even breathe.

But nonetheless, our brave and beautiful protagonist ventured on! (Because we've already gone through like, a paragraph and nothing has happened.)

SO, ANYWAYS.

The blond man was sneaking around all sexy-like; blah, blah, blah; enter awesome spy music; blah, blah, blah; close call almost tripping...  
>Blah.<br>Blah.  
>Blah.<p>

And so, after much stalling from the best author ever, Arthur arrived at his destination: the street.

HUZZAH!

Standing under a lamp, looking very un-original, was Alfred.

"You made it!" he cried, when he saw Arthur.  
>The Brit rushed over and clamped his hand over the American's mouth. "Are you trying to wake him up?" He asked, pointing towards the ominous building.<br>"He can't hear us, Artie!" Alfred grinned, pulling the man's hand off his face.  
>"I know..." Arthur said, his shoulders sagging slightly. "It's just that I've been trapped in your room for about two days, I thought I was going to get Cabin Fever!"<br>Alfred pouted. "At least you got my bed! I had to sleep on that lumpy couch!"  
>Arthur sighed and smacked his partner in crime. "Git," he muttered.<p>

OoOoOoO

Matthew smiled as he watched the two blondes run off into the night. Nothing like a little rebellion to force two people into friendship…  
>…or something else.<p>

Matthew chuckled groggily, turning from the window and slipping into his bed.

"Best of luck, brother."

OoOoOoO

Alfred tugged Arthur towards, in his opinion, one of the best places in the world. Sure, America was pretty high up there, but England had some good qualities too.

Arthur followed him excitedly. Being trapped in the prison Alfred called his room made him eager to venture in the lands beyond the dirty underwear and comic books.

Alfred was rambling about flying, and rocks; something totally odd like that.

Arthur had learned the sacred art of "tuning out" thanks to that boy.

But, the night was cold and lonely, and Arthur found the American's voice become increasingly more welcome.

"-omantic, and super, totally cool!"  
>"Wait, what was that bit before super?"<br>Alfred looked down to Arthur, with what looked suspiciously like blush. "Um, that it was awesome?'  
>"No, after that."<br>"Totally cool?"  
>"Before that!"<br>"I don't know what you're talking about." Alfred said, looking away.  
>"Really? Because I could've sworn you said romanti-"<br>"We're here!" Alfred interjected.

Arthur looked down, about a few hundred feet down, into giant pointy rocks and crashing waves. Not only was he uncomfortable standing at the edge of a cliff, but he also couldn't swim.  
>Yelping, he practically jumped into Alfred's arms and simultaneously punched him in the gut. (Now that takes talent.)<br>Al grunted/chuckled and held the Brit close. Once again, an almost evil intelligence crossed his face.

"What, Artie, you scared?"

Instead of just the initial, "Shut up you git, of course I'm not afraid!"  
>He got that exact response plus the blonde clutching even tighter to the American.<p>

Alfred was most definitely smirking now, but he opened his mouth and whispered, "I have something to tell you, Artie~"

"I swear, if you say 'hi', I'll push you off the cliff."

Alfred chuckled dryly, patting the older man's back, and continuing, "Nah, I just wanted to tell you that my birthday is the fourth!"  
>Arthur pulled back, but only enough to look at his...companion. (And NOT because he liked being held by Al. It was because he was...cold! Yes, that's it! He was cold!)<p>

"The fourth..." He mumbled. "That's only two days away!"  
>"One. It's past midnight."<p>

Arthur rested his head against Alfred's chest, sighing. "You could have told me earlier, you know. What am I supposed to get you, anyways?"

"A present!"  
>"No shit, Sherlock. I mean what kind of present do you want?"<p>

Alfred snuggled closer to the blonde, with caused the younger man to tense and wiggle. But Alfred held fast and thought…  
>…and thought…<br>…and thought.

He thought mostly about some very inappropriate things, but all the same, about a fourth of his mind stayed on track. "You can answer a question." Alfred decided.  
>"Okay, what question?"<br>"I can't tell you now!" Alfred exclaimed, looking horrified. "That would totally ruin it, dude!"  
>"Ugh, fine."<p>

OoOoOoO

Matthew didn't see head or tails of his brother and Arthur until around noon. And they did not look good.

At first, Matthew thought it was because Arthur was afraid of his punishment for sneaking out while he was grounded, but he soon learned it was much more than that.

The boys had fallen asleep in a park, on some random bench. That is, until Arthur's phone began to ring—at four in the morning. Thinking it was an emergency, Arthur answered, which woke Alfred.

The Englishman was informed his mother had died of cancer. No one had even told him she had cancer.

It was a huge shock, hearing it from his brother. The boys immediately went over to Francis' flat, after asking the rather nice girl to kindly get herself out, before she was raped—or worse.

They explained their predicament to Francis, who told Gilbert, who told Antonio, who told Lovino. And Lovino screamed, "SHUT THE FUCK UP BASTARD, I WAS SLEEPING!" (Like the compassionate soul he was.)

They all came up with enough money for Arthur to go to the funeral, which was in Scotland. But at Francis' insistence that Arthur needed support, he bought an extra ticket for Alfred, who was thankful.

Arthur knew that Francis had a plan, but at the moment, he didn't give a shit. Alfred was daft, but he was kind. He'd be good to have around when his brothers were cranky and mourning.

The boys fell asleep on the floor, and they only left the house at Lovino's insistence.

They walked home and finally reached Matthew at around noon.

* * *

><p>Hello, this is animewatcherfreakmal's official beta, Dara. At her insistence, I am being forced to write at least 30 words of an apology for being late with the editing.<p>

Sorry.

* * *

><p>That was so not thirty words dara. -.-<p>

Anyways, SHE is the reason this is late. NOT ME. HER. And she'll tell you about the countless emails I sent her complaining. Really. Ask.

ANYWAYS.

This chapter is late. I know that your fangirl rage is bubbling over the top, but don't worry. you can shoot Dara. And her fricking broken laptop.

ALSO:

I GOT A LAPTOP OF MY VERY OWN! :D

I'm thinking for a name for him/her, so any suggestions are welcome! (and I'll also update faster, but that's not relevant.)

I love you, my lovely little lemon drops!

Until next time, REVIEW!

-Mallory


	17. In which I claim your vital regions

CLAIMER: I CLAIM YOUR VITAL REGIONS! MWAHAHA!

* * *

><p>Terrified; miserable; beaten… Arthur wasn't quite sure what word to use. He sat in the airport, clutching a skimpy and quickly thrown-together carry-on. Alfred sat beside him, blabbering what he believed to be comforting words. But for God's sake, Arthur's mother had died! He wasn't exactly jumping for joy. And not only that, but he also had to deal with his brothers.<p>

How he was going to survive these days, he wasn't sure. Maybe he'd just commit suicide. Yes, that option was looking even better than usual.

A dead mother…

Two vengeful brothers…

And an American.

How could this get any worse? Well, at least Francis wasn't coming, but still…

"And it'll be okay!" Alfred smiled at him.

Oh, Alfred. Alfred, Alfred, Alfred. What words could you use to describe him? Stupid? Loud?

…Kind; well-intentioned; happy; daft; arrogant; sexy; overpowering; strong; brave?

…Or just…Alfred.

Whatever the word, Arthur had grown fond of him. For some odd reason, the fact that the boy tried so damn hard, for _everything_, just…

Just….

Yeah.

"Oh, Artie, we're boarding." Alfred said, tugging on the Englishman's sleeve.

Arthur looked at his friend, standing up slowly.

"Joy."

OoOoOoO

"They're going to be okay, right?" Matthew asked, trying to swallow his worry.

"Yeah, birdie. They've got each other," Gilbert assured, patting his boyfriend's back.

"I know, but Arthur looked so upset, and Francis told me about Arthur's brothers…"

"Hey, he's got Alfred with him, doesn't he? What could go wrong?"

Matthew stared at Gilbert, in shocked silence.

"OH MY GOD! EVERYTHING IS GOING TO GO WRONG!"

OoOoOoO

Yawning, Alfred got up and grabbed the baggage. "Well, that was quick," He said, trying to lift the dead air.

Arthur stared at him blankly. He was long past feeling. In fact, he was numb. Numb to all the emotions swirling inside him. "Alfred, I'm warning you about my brothers. They're going to be hell to you."

"Nah. They can't be that bad," Alfred shrugged, moving up the aisle.

"Whatever you say, Alfred. Now hurry up, we need to get a cab."

After a long, boring car ride—in which Alfred chatted with the driver and Arthur sulked in self-pity—they arrived at the house.

Alfred thanked the cabbie, and tipped him with what he could afford. "You ready, Artie?"

"Not in the slightest. But, I can't exactly turn around now, can I?"

Alfred smiled. "I wouldn't let that happen."

OoOoOoOoO

Davis turned to his brother. "That idiot is going to show up any minute. What should we do?"

"I think it's time we forgive him," Mitchell replied.

"Forgive? _Forgive_? You want to _forgive_ the guy that killed Patrick?"

"He didn't kill Patrick!" Mitchell yelled. "And he isn't just some guy! He's our brother!"

"_BROTHER_? He's no brother of mine! You know as well as I do the only reason Patrick got into that car crash was because he was drinking."

"Wha-"

"AND THE ONLY REASON HE WAS DRINKING IS BECAUSE OF ARTHUR!"

Mitchell wiped a tear from his cheek. "Shut up!" he cried. "You don't know anything! You and Patrick have always been terrible to Arthur! As if you haven't said terrible things to him! As if you hadn't ever made him drink! Do you know how many times he's cried over you two?"

Davis turned to face the wall. "Did we ever kill him?"

"Luckily, no! But you just as easily could have! You know how Arthur gets when he drinks! The only thing to stop him from dying in a car crash was luck!"

"I'll never forgive him," Davis whispered, crossing his arms. "He killed my brother."

"Don't forget, he is your brother too," Mitchell reminded him, heading towards the door. "And he didn't kill him. No one killed him."

The boy flung open the door, ready to storm out.

He was met with something he had hoped to never see again…

…A crying brother.

OoOoOoO

Arthur and Alfred had heard the entire fight. It was loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

Arthur had, quite understandably, broken down in tears when he heard that he was the cause of his brother's death. He now knew why Davis hated him so much. Sure, they had never really gotten along, but this…

This was deserved. He killed his own brother. He was a murderer!

He was barely conscious of Alfred's hands on his shoulders, his comforting words.

It wasn't until Mitchell shook him, that he came into the world of the living. "Arthur!" His brother called, "Don't listen to Davis! You didn't do anything! It's not your fault."

"I killed him…I killed him…It's all my fault…"

"Artie! You didn't do anything! Listen to your brother! It's not your fault!"

"My…Patrick…he died…because of me…"

Mitchell pulled his brother into a hug. "No! You didn't do a thing. Listen to the American guy. It's two against one. Davis just wants to blame someone because he can't handle his grief."

Arthur remained frozen in his brother's arms.

Alfred was pouring stream of comforting words into his ear, but he didn't hear any of them.

"I just…can't…" Arthur whispered.

OoOoOoO

Davis stomped upstairs, where his father was sitting. "Dad…" he whispered. He had completely forgotten about the man.

He sat in an old wooden chair, staring out a window. The room was barren, void of anything familiar or comforting.

The aging man was slouched and worn, tear tracks still on his cheeks. "Son," he croaked. "Come here."

Davis wandered closer to the man; as if afraid he would jump up and throttle him.

"Son, my time is coming."

"Dad, don't say that-"

The old man held up a wrinkled hand, silencing the boy. "Son, let an old man talk," he said. "My time is coming. I would love to join your mother, I really would. This world has grown tired of me, it's time I left. I've overstayed my welcome, and I find I'm perfectly happy leaving. But I have a duty—a duty to you boys. Patrick has moved on, there's nothing we can do about that. He's with your mother. We need to let go," the old man said.

"Mitchell has let go. Arthur had let go, until you said what you did." The old man gestured to the window.

Scared, Davis approached the glass, slowly peeking out. He saw his two remaining brothers. Arthur was on his knees, crying. Mitchell was desperately hugging him, and a tall blonde man was bending next to the both of them, a worried expression on his face as he uttered words that looked like comfort.

"If you keep digging up your past like this, son, you'll find yourself in a big hole and no sight of the future."

Davis turned away from the window. "But Patrick—"

"—Is gone now. It's no one's fault, as your brother said. He has simply moved on."

"But it wasn't his time!" Davis cried.

The old man clasped his hands together, and stared about the empty room. "Oh? And who is to determine that?"

* * *

><p>Yay! ANGST IS FUN!<p>

Oh, by the way, Mitchell is Northern Ireland and Davis is Scotland.

Yeah, go on, yell at me. Because NOTHING was funny in this chapter. Except maybe that little part with matthew...

Anyways, humor shall return! ...eventually.

I love you, my lovely little lemon drops! Until next time, review!

-Mallory

* * *

><p>Hello, a word from the beta. This is just a little note saying that if I weren't amazing, I'd have deleted all the PruCan parts of this story…<p>

…Because I hate PruCan. But I AM awesome, and so it stays. Ick.

-Dara


	18. Hot dogs from space

Disclaimer: Hi. I claim my disses.

* * *

><p>Matthew was freaking out. Now, Matthew was usually a quiet and calm person, but his usual personality flew out the window when he worried.<p>

"Gilbert! I just know Alfred is gonna get them killed!"

"Birdie, you're not even making sense anymore." Gilbert said, petting his pet chick.

"What if Alfred rents a car, but he's not old enough, and then the police come after them and there's this huge chase that knocks over a little old lady who drops her purse and a thief steals it and then he runs into a hotdog cart which causes an explosion and the hot dog cart flies into outer space and then starts falling down! And then Alfred gets hit in the eye with a flying hot dog from space and it makes him swerve, and they fall off a bridge and die!"

"Birdie…I don't really know what to say to that…"

"WE HAVE TO GET TO SCOTLAND BEFORE THE HOT DOGS KILL THEM ALL!" Matthew ran for the door, and he would've made it too, if it weren't for that meddling Italian and his tomato bastard.

"Shut the fuck up!" Romano yelled, "Nothing's gonna happen you stupid bastard!"

"Lovi, that's not nice."

"Shut up tomato bastard!"

Antonio pouted. "Lovi~!"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

Francis came down the stairs, looking very irritated. "What is all the noise? It is not helping my hangover…"

Romano and Antonio stood in the kitchen now, the Spaniard at knife point.

Gilbert had wandered off long ago to look at porn, so Matthew spoke up. "AL AND ARTHUR ARE GOING TO BE KILLED BY HOT DOGS FROM OUTER SPACE!"

Francis, seeing his chance, draped an arm over the distraught Canadian and brought him over to the couch. "Mon cher!" he cried, "I do not think such a thing would happen!"

"BUT WHAT IF IT DOES?"

Francis shrugged, "Ah, c'est la vie." (That's life)

Matthew was so busy worrying he didn't notice the hand sneaking up his leg. "Ma petite!" Francis cried, "You must calm down! Everyth-"

But he never got to finish his sentence, because Gilbert had knocked him out cold.

OoOoOoO

Mitchell had found a hotel room and, after a few minutes of persuasion, both he and Alfred managed to get Arthur to go to sleep.

"Oh, thank god," Mitchell cried, sitting on the couch.

"Yeah, man," Alfred agreed, starting up the coffee maker. "Hey, do you want any coffee?" he asked.

Mitchell nodded. "Sure. I need some."

Alfred poured in the water and then sat in an armchair to wait. "So…Mitchell…"

"Alfred?"  
>"What's your brother's name again? Davis?"<p>

Mitchell nodded once more, "Yeah, Davis. He's the oldest; I'm the youngest."

"Cool."

A long silence passed, until Mitchell couldn't take it anymore. "Are you and Arthur dating?" he blurted out.

"Huh? Nah. Why? Is he even gay?" Alfred said, calm as could be.

Mitchell relaxed more into the couch, losing some of the red tint in his cheeks. "Oh. Okay. I'm not sure if Arthur is gay—he's never said anything. "

The coffee maker beeped, and Alfred stood up to get it. Pouring the cups, he turned his head back to Mitchell. "What if he _was_ gay?"

Mitchell leaned back against the couch. "Well…I don't know. Nothing I guess. Dad wouldn't care, but Davis would probably tease him."

Alfred handed him the coffee. "I hope black is okay, there's no cream or sugar." Mitchell nodded and took a sip.

"You know, Davis is kind of an asshole."

Mitchell burst out laughing, but quickly quieted himself, so as not to wake Arthur. "Yeah, Davis is an arse. Always has been, always will. I don't really know why, though."

Al smiled, and glanced over at Arthur. The blonde tossed in his sleep, mumbling something about pirates.

"You should," Mitchell said quietly.

"Huh?" Alfred tore his gaze away from the Englishman so he could stare uncomprehendingly at Mitchell.

"You should ask him out," Mitchell said, taking a sip of coffee. "You're a nice guy."

Alfred stared blankly at the red-haired brother. "Yeah," he murmured, "I should…"

OoOoOoO

"Tornare qui, bastardo!" Lovino yelled, chasing after Antonio.

"Lovi! Please put down the spoon!"

"No! I'll gouge out your eyes!"

Matthew turned to Gilbert. "Shouldn't we help him?"

"Huh...?" Gilbert asked. "Oh! Antonio! Yeah, hang on..." Gilbert strode into the kitchen, and after much rumaging, came back wielding a tomato and a potato.

"What is that going to do?" Matthew asked.

"Just watch," Gilbert said.

"OH MY!" he yelled, "I CAN'T DECIDE WHICH IS BETTER—TOMATOES OR POTATOES?"

Lovino stopped chasing the spainard, and looked over.

"I THINK I'LL JUST MIX THEM TOGETHER!" Gilbert yelled. Just as he was about to smash the vegatables (okay, tomatoes are fruit but who cares?) togther, Romano jumped him. "DON'T YOU DARE YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" he screamed.

OoOoOoO

Elizabeta was sitting under an oak tree, staring out at the park. Beside her, was a young boy who called himself Peter, and a young girl who was so shy, she only pointed to a flower when asked her name.

"So, team," Eliza said, clapping her hands together. "Today a good friend of mine is coming to show you the ropes: We're gonna film some yaoi!"

Peter raised his hand. "What's yaoi?"

The hungarian smiled. "Well you see, Peter, when a man and a man love each other very very much-"

OoOoOoO

Francis woke up to a tingling in his...um...

And that could mean only one thing! Well, two. Either he had some AWESOME sex last night, or someone, somewhere, was learning what yaoi was. He leaned toward the latter, as he was on the floor with a throbbing headache and a bump on his head that closely resembled Gilbert's fist.

Jumping up and scanning the room, he saw Romano and Antonio practically eating each other's faces off. They probably had an argument earlier. After asking if he could join, (they turned him down) he set off to flirt.

Arriving at the bar, he sat down on a stool and scanned the area.

Seeing his target, he made his way over. The young girl looked up with a cautious expression. "Yes?" she asked.

Francis took her hand and kissed it like the gentleman he was not, then in his best sexy-voice, he said, "Did you just fart?"

"Excuse me?" the girl yelled, ripping her hand from the Frenchman.

"Because you're blowing me away." Francis finished. By the look on the girl's face, he figured that Gilbert had hit him a little _too_ hard this time...

* * *

><p>And now, a word from your beta.<p>

I dunno, I'm bored. FRANADA OWNS ALL.

* * *

><p>Hey guys! I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD! I worte this on the airplane? The airplane to where, you ask? Colorado, of course! It's snowing! That's a big deal for me, 'cause I live in Florida. So I'll be slower with updates until my vacation is over. But I'll still update. NO MATTER WHAT.<p>

I promised you your humor! I hope that was enough to tide you over~

Until next time!

-Mallory


	19. The Broom Incedent

Disclaimer: Hetalia. Yeah. I own it. WHAT NAO? (actually, that was a lie...)

* * *

><p>Arthur groaned and sat up. The background noise he had been hearing for a while suddenly quieted, and both Alfred and Mitchell rushed over to the Brit's bedside.<p>

"Artie~! You're awake!" Alfred said. "Wait –JUST HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN AWAKE?" Panic overtook his voice.

"I just woke up, you git…" Arthur mumbled. Why was Al so concerned with—?

They had been talking about him! Oh my—JUST WHAT HAD THEY BEEN SAYING?

"What did you tell him?" Arthur screamed, grabbing his brother's shirt, "I swear, if you told him about the broom incident I'll-"

"I didn't tell him anything!" Mitchell wailed, throwing up his hands in defense. "I swear!"

Alfred pried Arthur off the red head, and after settling him down, he asked, "What broom incident?"

Mitchell opened his mouth, but the Brit launched at him before he could utter a single word. Through the fight, Alfred heard a few parts of the story.

"Patrick and Arthur-" "-ice-skating-" "Fight!" "But then Davis-" "Broom in his arse-"

Alfred had successfully restrained Arthur, but it took all of his strength. "Artie, would you quit wiggling?" Alfred asked in exasperation.

"Sure, wanker," Arthur turned slightly, and grabbed onto Al's hair.

"Oh! The bitch move!" Mitchell exclaimed from the floor.

"Shut up, you bloody wanker!" Arthur yelled over his shoulder as he tugged Alfred's hair.

"Ow! Artie! Stop!"

**A/N RAPE O.O**

"Let me go!" Arthur screamed.

"No! DON'T!" Mitchell said, frantically standing up.

Arthur tugged on the American's hair once more, but got a different reaction than the other times. "Ah! Don't do that!" Al said, his grip tightening (how was that possible?).

"Then LET ME GO!" Arthur tugged again.

Mitchell ran out the door, and yelled over his shoulder, "Give me five minutes, and then you can let him go!"

_Meanwhile, in Alfred's brain:_

_Shit, shit, shit. Don't do something stupid, just close your eyes and think about something else…yeah…hamburgers…guns…Arthur…SHIT!_

"Artie, you have to let go—now."

"I'll let go if you let go."

_Damn. How long has it been? Three minutes…or one? I can't do this anymore…oh god, I'm going to do something stupid…_

OoOoO

And I'll just move over to Matthew now, give you a nice little cliff hanger. I already know what you're thinking. _"OMG WTF? Nantucket isn't an erogenous zone!"_

But now it is!

So anyway, onto the story.

Gil and Matthew walked down to the bar. Because beer rocks.

Once they arrived, they both started heavily drinking. Matthew, because he was worried sick and hell, he was dating _Gilbert…_

…And Gilbert just always drinks that way…

It only took a few hours for things to get…yeah…

"Gilbert, what should I wear to the funeral?"

"Who's funeral?"  
>"The Space hot dog's funeral, duh!"<p>

"Oh. Um…You should wear…" Gilbert scratched his chin in deep concentration. "You should wear mustard." He nodded at this conclusion.

"What? Mustard? Are you crazy?" Matthew exclaimed, "I look terrible in yellow! I'm wearing ketchup instead!"

Gilbert looked taken aback. "Then what should I wear?"

Matthew thought for a moment, "Horse Radish."

"But that would hurt my eyes!"

"Beauty is pain, darling."

OoOoOoO

Alfred finally couldn't take it anymore. He let Arthur go, turned him loose, and unhanded him— it was rather dignified… (Ha-ha…con deluded reference…)

But Arthur wasn't about to let go of his plaything. Not that he knew what he was doing, of course. But watching Alfred struggle was mildly amusing…

"Artie! I let go! Ah~ Stop it!"

"Hmm…let me think." Arthur twisted the lock of the hair in what he hoped was a painful manner. "No."

"Mmnn! Artie, you promised!"  
>"I lied."<br>"Ah!~ How could you?"  
>"Easy, I didn't tell the truth."<p>

And that was when Alfred stopped all mental processing. Since his brain wasn't functioning, that other precious organ took over. He pinned Arthur to the floor, causing the Brit to let out an 'Oomph!' of surprise.

He was practically splayed out like a starfish, waiting for a punch, a kick…

But Alfred never hit him…

"Artie, don't lie to me again," Alfred said, a dead serious expression on his face.

How the hell did Arthur find that sexy? He should be demanding release right now…

"O-okay." What the bloody hell was that? Where did the powerful Arthur go?

"Good." Alfred got off the mentally (and physically—but he'd never admit that) disturbed Brit, and coughed awkwardly.

Arthur sat up, stunned. What the bloody hell had just happened?

OoOoOoO

Mitchell stopped running after ten minutes. Arthur surely should have caught up to him by now—that guy was ridiculously fast when he was pissed. But he was nowhere in sight, and there were no noises of swerving cars to indicate he was coming.

_Had Al held him longer than I said? Wait—Al. AL. ALFRED. The guy that likes—_

_Oh shit. They're probably having gay sex right now or—THE IMAGES!_

Mitchell literally clutched his eyes, as if he could block out the mental pictures flashing through his mind.

_I wonder who would top—WHY THE BLOODY HELL DO I CARE?_

Mitchell grabbed a cab, and offered the man twenty extra pounds (does Scotland use pounds?) if he could get him to the nearest physiologist in under five minutes.

The cabbie did his best, and ended up making it. As Mitchell threw the money at him and ran out of the car, the cabbie called, "Hey kid—why are you in such a rush to go?"

Mitchell turned and stopped. "The images…" he whispered.

OoOoO

Peter stared at Eliza, wide eyed. "They can do that?"

The Hungarian nodded. "And sometimes with their mouths."

"MOUTHS?" Peter exclaimed.

The young girl (her name was Lily) touched her lips. "It fits?" she whispered.

"Most of the time!"

Kiku arrived at that exact moment. He bent down to whisper in his partner's ear, "I'm picking up a small signal from the young boy."

Eliza turned back, stunned. "You think-?"

Kiku nodded. "He's not too disgusted, now is he?"

"OH MY GOD!" Eliza screamed, jumping to her feet. "New target sighted!"

OoOoOoO

Francis trudged home in pure sorrow. Gilbert must have hit his touch right out of him. Not a single person fell for his pickup lines. Not a single one! He had to get that checked! He needed to lay down…yes, here seemed fine…

"Hey, get out of the road you crazy old man!" Someone yelled from their car.

_Old…. _"S'il vous plait, just run me over…"

"Oh crap, he's a bloody frog."

OoOoO

Mitchell lay on a very typical physiatrist chair, wringing his hands together.

"So, Mitchell," the doctor said, "What seems to be the problem?"

"Well, earlier today, my brother's friend Alfred told me he likes Arthur—that's my brother."

"Mhm…" The doctor said, scribbling something into his notebook. "And how does that make you feel?"

"Well, I was fine with it. I mean, I totally respect gay people. But then I left the hotel room—we were all staying there because Davis is a dick—and Arthur didn't chase after me. SO THEY HAD TO BE HAVING SEX!"

"Okay, and how does that make you feel?"

"Creeped out! I can't stop thinking about it!"

"And how does that make you feel?"

* * *

><p>And Dara says…This chapter was too much fun to edit. Mallory, I miss your German therapist impersonations…<p>

And I'm actually happy to read that _some people actually like me!_ You'd think that all the PruCan supporters would hate me. Moreover, I'm surprised people read my side notes in the first place!

*ahem* …But Franada is still the best

* * *

><p>Aw, I miss them too, Dara! I miss them too...<p>

So, one day I was reading some of my old reviews, and guess what I see? 110. OVER ONE HUNDRED.

When the hell did that happen? I LOVE YOU GUYS! I LOVE YOU.

Really.

I do.

ALSO! **A question for you, I have.**

**How'd you like this story to have smut in it?**

**Smexy times? M rating whatever? And like dear Mitchell so wisely wondered- who would top?**

Tata!

-Mallory


	20. Cue the cliff hanger

Disclaimer: I disclaim hetalia

* * *

><p>Arthur was…unsettled. He was a bit moody, so to speak, but…<p>

_Holy crap…bloody hell…what the hell is going on? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?_

You see, Arthur's mom died. And that sucks. But he was kind of okay with it, in some sick messed up way.

Then his dickhead brother went and started shit, and guess what happened? DEPRESSION. Well, no shit. I mean, he might have possibly-but-probably-not-in-a-direct-sort-of-way-maybe killed his brother. And that was not a very good thing to have on your mind. (Well, duh.)

But the thing that pushed him over the edge? Sexual tension. MWAHAHA! THAT'S RIGHT! It's back!

Okay, now that we've gone over a very informal re-cap, let's venture on to the actual story.

OoOoO

Arthur stood, and just stared at Alfred. Not in a stalker way; more of a 'WTF, bro?' way.

Alfred coughed again. "Um, right. So Artie, how did you sleep?"

"Are you serious?" Arthur yelled, "How did I bloody sleep? Oh, well I slept fine thank-you. NO! What the bloody hell, Al?"

"It was your fault!" Alfred yelled, pointing at Arthur, "I TOLD YOU TO LET GO!"

"I TOLD YOU TO LET GO, TOO!"  
>"Well, Mitchell told me not to!"<br>"Mitchell is seventeen!"  
>"I'm nineteen!"<br>"Wait, no you're not."  
>"What do you mean? I'm pretty sure I'm nineteen, Artie. I mean—"<br>"Hush, git. Today is July fourth."

Alfred stopped talking. "WHAT?" He pulled out his cell-phone, but it was dead. "Ah! Artie, where's your phone?" He rushed over to Arthur without a reply, and grabbed his phone out of his pocket.

"Hey. you bloody git! WHAT THE—"

But Al had already cracked the password. "OH MY GOD! I'M TWENTY!"

Arthur ripped his phone out of the American's hand, and shoved it back in his pocket. "Congrats, git. Happy birthday."

Alfred pulled Arthur to him in a tight hug. "ARTIE, I AM TWENTY!"

"Very nice, now let me go!"

Al dropped Arthur (he didn't want history to repeat itself) ran around the room, ate a snickers bar that came from who knows where, and then rushed back to Arthur. "I need your phone again!"

"Oh god. Today is going to be hell…"

OoOoOo

Matthew was at Gil's apartment, or at least they thought it was his apartment…

They were debating the pros and cons of moose, but were unfortunately interrupted by Matthew's phone ringing.

"Yes, hello?" Matthew said into his wallet, "Hello?"

But the ringing continued.

Gilbert sighed, reached over, took Mattie's phone and answered, "Yeah, what? Mattie's wasted."

"GIL! PUT THE PHONE ON SPEAKER!" Alfred's voice screamed.

Gil did as he was told, and only after three tries! "What?"

"MATTIE! GIL! AND ANYONE ELSE IN THE ROOM! I'M TWENTY!"

"And who are you?" Matthew asked.

"I'm Alfred!"

"And who is that?"

Gilbert ended the call, and shoved the phone back into Matthew's pocket. "I don't know; some solicitor. Now where were we?"

"I believe we were discussing the average amount of deaths caused by moose."

"Ah, yes. So as I was saying, five percent of car accidents…"

OoOoO

And now we're going to check in on Davis because I'm feeling angsty.

Davis was lying in his room, being all emo and stuff, when his door was flung open. "DAVIS!" A female voice shouted.

"Sis?" He asked, sitting up, "How come you haven't been mentioned earlier?"

"Well, honestly, the author forgot about the existence of Wales!" Regan yelled.

"How rude!" Davis exclaimed.

"Yes, I'm thoroughly pissed!"

"As you should be!"

"But anyways." Regan said. "We need to talk about Arthur."

"Why? Are you going to yell at me too?" Davis asked.

"Well, no. I mean, you're a dick fo' sho' but I'm kind of a bitch too. So I want to pull a prank on dear little bro."

"Really?" Davis said, brightening up. "Aw, sis! I missed you! Curse the damn writer for forgetting Wales!"

"I know, really! But that's not important right now. Right now we need to plan…"

OoOoOo

Mitchell stared around the room. "Oh, doc. You have no idea. It's really disturbing. I mean, is there something wrong with me? I'm straight. I know I am—but THE IMAGES!"

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Insecure, I guess. I mean, if I was really confident…then I shouldn't doubt myself…"

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Stupid…I shouldn't be worrying! Oh, god! I'm such an idiot! Who cares if they have sex? I have my whole life ahead of me! I can't let anything get me down!" Mitchell stood proudly, and shook the therapist's hand. "Jeez, doc! You're a genius! Here, you deserve this money. Whooo! Thanks doc! I'm cured!"

The physiatrist watched the giddy boy run out the door. He finished penciling in his doodle of a man drowning in piles of money. "Yep." He nodded at his drawing. Then he began counting the money. "You are a genius…"

OoOoO

Elizabeta clutched Peter's shoulders. "Honey," she said sweetly, "Have you ever wanted to kiss a boy?"

"What do you mean? Like the two people you told me to make kiss?"

Eliza face palmed. How could she have forgotten that? Of course! This little boy had potential!

"Yes and no…" Eliza said. "Those two are gay. Not that Arthur knows it but…oh, I mean on the lips."

Peter thought for a moment. "No."

"YOU LIAR!" Eliza screeched making Peter flinch back.

"Young man," Kiku said, stooping down next to the boy, "I am going to show you three magazines. I want you to tell me which one makes you feel funny."

"O-okay…" Peter said.

Kiku laid out the three articles, all of them porn. The first one was hetero, the second was gay, and the last was lesbian.

Peter's eyes went wide, and he didn't move for quite a long time. Lily screamed and buried her face in her hands.

"U-um…" Peter said.

"Feel free to look through them," Kiku said.

"You people are sick," A voice said, behind Eliza.

They all turned, to see a blonde man sporting a gun. "Lily, we're leaving. You two," He pointed to Eliza and Kiku. "You're lucky we're in England, where cops actually do their job. If we weren't, you'd be dead. That is all."

OoOoOoO

Francis flung open the door to his apartment, not even batting an eye at the drunk couple debating what came first—the can or the can opener?

He trudged upstairs, and called his backup.

"Hello?" Antonio answered.

"Antonio, I have a dire emergency."

OoOoOoO

"Wait! MY QUESTION!" Alfred stopped his jumping, and suddenly looked very serious.

And Arthur was definitely not turned on by that. No. Of course not. That's just ridiculous. Why would you think that?

"My question…" Alfred said. He looked Arthur up and down.

"Don't tell me you forgot what it was," Arthur sighed.

"No." Al walked over to the bed and sat facing Arthur. "I'm just deciding what question to ask. Because if I ask one, then I'll get one answer. But if I ask the other question, then I'll get two answers. But I might not like the answer…" Alfred dragged off, just thinking.

Arthur sighed, and walked over to the coffee maker to boil some water for tea. Cleaning the pot and pressing a few buttons, he turned back to the American who staring at him intently.

"Bloody hell, Alfred. Don't stare at me like that. It's creepy."

"Sorry, Artie," Alfred said, resting his chin on his hands.

"Just ask the bloody question already!"

"I don't think you really want me to."

"Yes, I do want you to ask the question. Now please, get on with it."

Alfred sighed, and fell back on the bed. "Artie." He said. "Will you…"

"What?"

"Hang on; I need to make proper suspension."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Okay, that should be enough. Artie, will you go out with me?"

AND CUE CLIFF HANGER.

OoOoO

Antonio sat next to Francis. "You actually said that?"

"I want to die!"

"No, it's okay, mi amigo. You're just having a bad day. Let's go get some churros—they always make me feel better."

"Really?" Francis sniffled.

"Really."

* * *

><p>In case anyone was wondering, the can opener was invented 50 years after the can.<p>

OoOoO

Dara says…

And I read the reviews just to find out that people are trying to convert me to PruCan! Never! I remain faithful to Franada, unfortunately betaing all the un-Franadaness…

OoOoO

Oh Dara. What will i do with you? YOU ARE AMERICAN! You must do what the people say. DEMOCRACY! (even though America is a republic. But don't tell Alfred.)

**VOTING IS STILL UP!**

**So far Al is topping, but don't get too excited! He's only just asked Artie out.**


	21. I'm not romantic

Disclaimer: Haha. Remember when I used to underline these? Yeah, those were the good old days.

* * *

><p>"No. Bloody. Way," Davis said, his ear pressed against the door.<p>

Regan just gaped at the cheap wooden door of the hotel room. "Davis," she said, "I think we need to rethink our prank."

"Shall we cock block?"

"You read my mind."

OoOoOoO

Arthur was a bit hard of hearing. Yes. That was it. "Um, what?"

"Will you go out with me?" Alfred repeated, not missing a beat.

"Well, I—"

"LITTLE BRO!" The door blasted open, and a giant red monster roamed into the room.

Oh, wait. That was just Regan.

Even worse.

"BACK, DEMON!" Arthur said, making a cross with his fingers.

"Aw, c'mon, bro. I didn't mean to break your fingers…"

Davis emerged from behind his sister. "Art! Ig! 'Sup? We're gonna take you, now."

Davis and Regan scooped up the blond, who immediately began cursing and smacking the both of them.

"Hey! Wait!" Alfred called, following the quickly disappearing trio. "Give 'im baaaack!" he whined.

"You git! Don't just stand there, help me!"

The hero caught up with the siblings. "C'mon guys, it's my birthday!"

Regan and Davis stopped walking, Arthur suspended on their shoulders. "Did you hear that, Davis?"

"Well, I certainly did, Regan."

"I think we should give it back."

"I AM NOT AN IT!"

Davis and Regan pulled Arthur off their shoulders, and pressed him towards Al. "Have fun!"

And the two exited the building, smiling like idiots.

"When do you think he'll notice?"

OoOoOoO

Francis munched on a churro, not really paying attention to the world.

"Mi amigo, how about you hit on the vender?"

"What?" Francis asked, looking over at his friend with dead eyes.

"She's pretty cute—why not?"

Francis sized up the woman selling churros, sub-consciously putting her into the 'easy' category. "I don't know…"

"C'mon! What could go wrong?"  
>"The cart could explode and everyone in the perimeter would be burned to ash."<br>"Okay, now you're sounding like Mark or Mason or whatever his name is."  
>"Matthew."<br>"Yeah, sure—Mattix. Just go hit on her already!"

Francis trudged over to the cart lady. "Hello. How can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Zere is a word for people like you, in my country," Francis said, putting on his best French accent. "Maintenant."

Francis smiled as the woman swooned. That word just meant now. But no one had to know that, now did they?

"Could I offer you a drink, if you would so kindly join me?"

"O-oh. But my shift…"

"A woman as lovely as you should never 'ave to work a day in 'er life."

"You really think so?"

OoOoOoO

Mitchell ran back to the hotel room. Ha! He had been so stupid. But now! Now he was over it! "Hey guys, I'm back I—OH MY GOD!"

Alfred was bent over Arthur in a rather disturbing manner, and the latter was grunting.

"THE IMAGES WERE RIGHT! YOU SICK-O'S!"

Mitchell slammed the door and ran all the way back to the therapist.

OoOoOoO

"Was that…Mitchell?" Alfred asked.

Arthur looked at the American, just as confused. "What was he going on about?"

Alfred shrugged. "Dunno, now keep pulling. The handcuff is almost off."

OoOoO

Matthew was lying against Gil, the latter snoring quite loudly.

"BOYS!" Francis stormed into the room. "WAKE UP! And get out!"

Matthew jerked upwards, and fell off Gil and the couch.

The albino woke a bit more gracefully. "What ass? Yeah, I'll touch it…"

Matthew slapped Gil. "You most certainly WILL NOT."

"Huh? Mattie? Francis? OH GOD WHAT HAPPENED?"

"Nothing. But something will happen if you don't get out RIGHT NOW. I have a guest to entertain."

"Dammit. Next time I'm punching you harder."

OoOoO

Lily looked back at her 'friends' as her brother dragged her away. "I liked the one with all boys!" She yelled over her shoulder.

Eliza beamed. "That a girl! LONG LIVE YAOI!"

BAM!

A single petal floated to the ground. The flower that had until recently resided in Eliza's hair was completely missing.

"Tsk," Lily's brother said, putting his gun away. "Missed."

OoOoO

"FLAWLESS VICTORY!" Alfred yelled, raising the now broken handcuff in the air.

"Mortal Kombat…?"

"Yeah. The writer has been listening to that song on loop this whole time."

"WOULD YOU QUIT BREAKING THE GODDAMN FOURTH WALL?"

"But the reviewers like it…"  
>"QUIT IT!"<p>

Alfred pouted. "Meanie…"

Arthur face palmed, and leaned back on the floor.

"So, Artie," Al said, inching closer to the Englishman. "It's time for my birthday present. I think the readers are all waiting for it!"

"I will never say yes if you keep breaking the fourth wall."

"But if I stop you'll—"

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

"That wasn't very romantic," Alfred pouted.

"Okay, first off, this writer sucks at any and all things romantic or clichéd. Second, in what fanfic have I ever been romantic?"

"ARITE!" Al screeched. "YOU JUST BROKE IT!"

"The condom?"

"What?"

"Sorry, couldn't resist."

OoOoO

* * *

><p>I love breaking the fourth wall.<p>

And thank you to all the reviewers supporting me in my Franada faith!

~Dara

* * *

><p>Am I awesome or am I awesome? Two chapters in one day. I THINK I DESERVE PRUSSIAN CITEZENSHIP!<p>

Oh, and i guess Dara is okay too, beta-ing these and all.

I LOVE YOU DARA.

Anyways, thanks for the reviews! BUT KEEP REVIEWING, BECAUSE IT SPURS ME TO POST SO FREAKING MUCH.

Alfred is still topping ;)

BUT VOTE MORE.

Tata!

-Mallory


	22. Avoiding The Pairing

"Crap," Regan said, peering into the wallet. "I forgot he was broke."

Davis patted his sister on the back. "There, there," he said, "Sometimes our brother's amazing DNA hides the fact that he's a total loser."

Regan sniffed. "He doesn't even have any credit cards…"

Davis smiled evilly. "But he does have contacts."

"Huh?"

Davis lifted Arthur's phone. Both siblings wore identical smirks.

"Well, Davis. Perhaps it hasn't been a total failure."

"Well I'd quite agree, Regan."

_Contacts:_

_Frog_

_Spanish Git_

_Dick (Davis)_

_Mitchell_

_Awesome Complex_

_Demon_

_American Git_

"Hmm," Regan said, scrolling through the list. "He's not very popular, now is he?"

"I am not a dick!"

"Yes, you are."

"Hm. True. Let's call the frog."

OoOoO

Francis heard his phone ringing. It was probably somewhere in his now discarded pants.

"Francis?" the girl asked.

"Just ignore it, mi amour. You have all my attention tonight."

OoOoOo

"So," Eliza said, "Let's get to the point. Peter, which magazine makes you feel weird?""

"Did you just get shot?"

"Almost, darling. Almost. But you need to pick a magazine."

"Um…" Peter looked down at the 'articles'. "That one," he said, pointing to the yaoi.

"YES!" Eliza rejoiced, dancing around. "Honey, come with us. I want you to meet a friend of mine…"

OoOoO

"Damn," Regan said, getting the voicemail.

"_Ohonhon~! I'm sorry, but I'm probably spreading l'amour. I'll get back to you soon, Mon Cher."_

"He is a bloody frog," Davis said, crinkling his nose in disgust.

"Let's try the next person."

OoOoO

"Hola?" Antonio said, answering his phone. "Arthur?"

"Hello, git."

"Arthur, that's not nice!"

OoOo

Davis covered the phone. "He's nice to this idiot?"

"I don't know, in the contacts he's 'spanish git'."

"Um…Sorry about that." Davis said into the phone.

"Oh, sorry Arthur. Lovi is here! I have to go! Adios!"

OoOoO

"Artie."

"What now, git?" Arthur said, getting the now boiled water for tea.

"Should we go after Mitchell? He looked scared or something."

Arthur picked some earl grey and let the tea sit for a moment. "No. I'm sure he's fine."

"Oh. If you say so."

"Now then." Alfred said, clapping his hands together. "You need to kiss me."

"I most definitely do not."

"But Artie! It's my birthday."

"I don't care."

Alfred pouted. "You know, I really want to break a certain wall right now."

OoOoO

Elizabeta held Peter's hand as they walked down the street. They looked like a typical family— some Hungarian in her twenties beside some Asian who was in his later twenties and between them some English kid who was probably twelve.

What, your family isn't like that?

Well, is your family normal?

Yeah. I thought not.

"Elly!" Peter said, "Where are we going?"

"To a friend of mine's house."

"Oh. What are we going to do there?"

This time, Kiku answered. "Well, we are going to introduce you to someone."

"What's their name?"

"Cozumel."

OoOoO

Antonio was in his tomato garden with Romano, tending to the plants, when all the sudden—

"ANTONIO!"

The Spaniard looked up. "Eh? Eliza? Gilbert isn't with me today, if you're looking for a victim."

"No, not today," Eliza said, smiling, "I was just looking for your cousin, Pablo. Have you seen him?"

"Pablo? Why do you want to see him?"

"Peter here," she pointed to the blonde by her side, "wants to meet Cozumel."

"Hm. Okay then!" Antonio said happily, "He was at the beach, last time I saw him."

OoOoO

Pablo watched as Cozumel snuck around the tanners' bags, taking out wallets and other valuables. Stupid tourists.

Cozumel returned to his older brother, looking full of pride. "I got ten wallets, one pair of earrings, a little over one hundred pounds, and six cell phones."

Pablo ruffled his brother's hair. "I'm very proud of you. Next time, we'll hit the better beaches."

"Okay!" Cozumel smiled.

"PABLO!" A female voice screeched.

The two brothers were about to run off, but a frying pan hit the older one in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

"Cozumel!" Eliza smiled. "Long time no see!"

"Oh great, it's you." Cozumel rolled his dark brown eyes, and began to stuff his…'merchandise' into a beach bag.

"Cozumel, darling! Don't talk to dear Aunt Eliza like that! I brought someone for you to meet!"

"For the last time, you are not my aunt, and I'm not interested in—"

The Hungarian nudged Peter towards Cozumel.

Peter frowned, confused. "Elly, he looks mean," Peter said, "And old."

"Hey! I'm only thirteen! And at least I don't look like some stupid kid!"

"I am NOT a stupid kid!" Peter said, his fists clenching. "I am the bravest, strongest, greatest person in the whole world!"

Cozumel threw back his head and laughed. "Yeah! Sure you are, kid. Keep dreaming."

Pablo was beginning to wake up. "Border? What border…?"

Peter reached out and basically decked Cozumel. "You wanna go?"

Cozumel smiled, rubbing his cheek. "Heh. Kid's got fire."

OoOoO

Eliza sniffed, wiping a tear off her cheek. "Oh, Kiku…" she sighed wistfully, "Isn't love just beautiful?"

Kiku watched the brawl, concerned. "Where did Cozumel get that knife?"

Eliza sniffed away another tear of happiness. "Oh, love…"

"And more importantly, when did Peter learn to do that?"

"Oh! Look, Kiku! They're fighting against the sunset!" Eliza said, pointing. "What could be more touching?"

"Um, Eliza-san, they are trying to kill each other."

"Fighting is part of every healthy relationship."

OoOoO

Mitchell clenched his alcohol like it was life itself.

"Hey, are you okay?" The bartender asked.

"No…" Mitchell whispered, "I walked in on my brother…"

The bartender gave a sympathetic smile. "Ah, man. Hey, it could've been worse. It could've been your parents."

"Oh buddy," Mitchell chuckled dryly. "First off, my mum died yesterday, and my brother is gay. It's one thing to walk in on your brother when he's with a girl, but another when…" Mitchell trailed off.

Now a crowd had gathered around Mitchell, all looking at him with pity. "Hey man," one of them clapped him on the back. "How about I buy you a drink? I thought I had problems, but man…"

The surrounding crowd nodded in agreement, all starting to tell their sob stories.

"Yeah, I'll take a pint. Anyways, when I was three my dad locked me in the closet."

"My dad came out of the closet when I was five!"

"Yeah, well I have an imaginary friend named Bosco."  
>"YOU KNOW BOSCO?"<p>

OoOoO

"Hello?" Gilbert said, answering his phone, "Arthur? Why are you calling me?"

"Because you're awesome."

"Kesese~ I am pretty awesome," Gilbert looked down at Matthew, as if to say:

_See? Someone acknowledges it._

Matthew ripped the phone from the Albino's hand. "Arthur? Since when do you say nice things, especially to Gil? Are you feeling okay?"

"Um, I'm totally fine."

"Did you just say totally?"  
>"Yeah? Is there something wrong with that?"<p>

"Okay, who is this?"

OoOoO

"YOUR MOM!" Davis said, in his last attempt for winning. But Matthew sighed and hung up, and Davis looked depressed.

"Come now, Davis. I have a better idea."

"Really?"

"Really. Hand me the phone."

OoOoOo

A young American teen stood at a cash register, chewing her gum.

"Kiana!" The manager called, "Pick up the phone."

Kiana sighed, and spitting out her gum, she answered the phone. "Yeah? This is McDonalds."

"Yes, hello," a girl said, with a strange accent. In fact, if American schools actually taught anything, the cashier would have said it was welsh.

"Can I reserve a table for six at five o' clock?"

The employee started chewing a new piece of gum. "This is McDonalds, baby."

"Yes. Correct. Can I reserve a table for six at five o' clock?"

"Let me get the manager…"

OoOoO

* * *

><p>HAHA! I AM SO STEREOTYPICAL! But aren't we all? Pablo is Mexico, I hope you know that. Cozumel is a small island off the coast of Mexico. Lovely place.<p>

That little 'YOU KNOW BOSCO?' came from some comedian guy. Not me :P

The McDonalds prank call was courtesy of my friends and I one boring winter break day. WE CRAZY.

MWAHAHA! We are a long ways away from lemons. Because I'm mean. And this is a romantic comedy But mostly a comedy. As you can see.

**IT'S A TIE FOR TOPPER! VOTE! MORE!**

But I might just do both ;)

Tata!

-Mallory

OoOoO

* * *

><p>Okay, first of all, I ADORE this chapter. Mostly because it has almost nothing to do with USUK, and therefore leaving you guys hanging. ;D<p>

Keep reviewing guys. It keeps our author happy. And an unhappy Mallory is a scary Mallory.

~Dara


	23. I'm a selfabsorbed American

Artie' and the American were curled up in bed together, and I'm not going to tell you how they got there because I think it'll be better to just leave it to your imagination.

Mitchell walked into the hotel room, completely wasted. The people at the bar had been so kind, buying him so many drinks!

In fact, he was so completely wasted he didn't bat an eye at the American and his brother. Instead, he crashed on the couch. "Tomorrow, I'm going to regret this…"

Well, actually, it turns out he didn't have to wait for morning, because around three A.M. he woke up and puked his guts out in the toilet.

"I swear I'm never going to drink again…"

**OoOoO**

It was now very late at night, or maybe very early in the morning.

Let's just say it was very, very dark.

Cozumel and Peter lay in the sand, panting, and every once in a while smacking each other.

PUNCH! "Numpty!"

SMACK! "Gringo!"

The police had tried many times to escort the group off the beach, but every time Eliza would brandish her frying pan and rant about love.

Kiku and Pablo stood by, scared to death, as she bashed the officer's brains out…

…because no one messed with Eliza.

Well, except for Gilbert, but he's…

…Gilbert…

**OoOoO**

Speaking of our lovely little albino friend, he was sitting on Matthew's couch, watching some horror movie and scarfing down something Mattie called 'poutine'. Matthew was next to him, leaning against his chest and picking at the "best food in the entire world and I can't understand why Alfred thinks it's gross".

"Mattie, I'm bored."

"HOW ON EARTH ARE YOU BORED?" Matthew exclaimed, pulling away from the man who now wished he had just kept his mouth shut. "This is freaking _Mirrors!_"

"Eh," Gilbert said, stuffing a fry in his mouth. "It's okay…"

"You, Gil, are a freak."

Gilbert smiled evilly. "Am I?"

"Yes, you are."

Gilbert leaned towards Matthew, ignoring the fact that a girl just got her jaw ripped off by her own reflection.

"Stop it, Gil," Matthew said, his brows furrowing.

"Why?"

"Because the beta really, really, really doesn't like the fact that we're together, and the writer is scared to write anything."

"Well, I don't give a shit," Gilbert said, smirking. And he leaned in and kissed the Canadian, forcing him to just go along with it. In fact, it was a pretty hot kiss until—

SMACK.

"FOR THE LAST TIME! DO. NOT. TOUCH. MY. BUTT!"

_Damn…_

**OoOoO**

Alfred woke up with 'Artie' in his arms, which was freaking awesome. But he was also too scared to move, because if he did, Arthur would wake up and beat the living crap out of him. Mitchell was asleep on the couch, a little bit of dried vomit stuck to his face.

Talk about a turn off.

But anyways, this scene was as fluffy as…something fluffy, because Arthur snuggled closer to Al and mumbled, "I love…."

Alfred held his breath.

"…scones…"

Damn.

Maybe another time.

**OoOoO**

Francis dropped the lady off at her apartment. You can never keep the easy ones overnight. They start talking about a serious relationship and…

Shivers…

Anyways, when Francis got home very late/early (we've already been over this) he noticed he had a missed call... from Arthur?

It had to be an emergency! Or maybe he got really drunk. And he was in that fairy costume again…

Drool…

The point being, Francis didn't use his brain, and called 'Arthur' back.

**OoOoO**

Regan sat up. What the hell was that insistent ringing? SHE'LL KILL IT—oh. It was Arthur's phone.

The caller I.D. said "Frog". Ew. Must be that creepy guy calling back. But hey, Regan was always up for a joke. So she answered the phone with a deep voice and a,

"What is it, Frog?"

"Angleterre!" Francis exclaimed, "Why did you call? Are you drunk again?"

"Shut up, frog. I'm plenty sober."

"Ohonhon~! So where's our dear American? Did things not work out and you need a rebound?"

"Actually, yes. I'm at my brother's house. I'll give you seven hours."

Click.

**OoOoO**

Francis stared at his cell phone.

WHAT. JUST. HAPPENED.

**OoOoO**

* * *

><p>Yeah, okay. I almost died reading that one scene. I'm sure you all know what I'm referring to. SEE WHAT I PUT UP WITH? The things I do for Mallory.<p>

Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Mallory, I'm so proud of you! Your grammar is improving!

~Dara

P.S. - I, just like the rest of you, am in the dark as to what is going to happen to our dear Francis...and it is driving me crazy.

OoOoO

MWAHAHAHA! I, THE GREAT MALLORY, SHALL SUSPEND ALL MY READERS!

Except one. Because I replied to one, who might have a tiny bit of an idea forming in there heads right now. And I promise you, if you're thinking:

"OMG, ITS ME, I KNOW IT!"

Then it's not you.

Yeah, I'm looking at you waytomuch.

P.S. DUDE. I'M SO AWESOME THE BETA IS ON A CLIFF HANGER.

*Fistpump*

P.p.s. Just to make sure you all don't think I'm a self-absorbed American, I'd like to thank you for all the support! It makes me very happy. VERY.


	24. Writer's block and Pablo

**Warning: Contains heavy language.**

Arthur eventually woke up and proceeded to beat Alfred. This woke Mitchell. Mitchell, remembering the images, screamed and ran out of the room—sick, hung-over, and scared.

After Alfred surrendered, he attempted to kiss 'Artie', but that turned out as well as English cooking…

…so yeah, not so well.

Burnt.

And crispy.

And it doesn't taste good.

BUT ANYWAYS, Alfred got up, half dead, half horny, and put on his best cow-eyes.

But they're not very effective…

"You bloody git," Arthur said, flipping him the V and walking over to the sofa. "Mum's funeral is today and you're acting like that?"

"Artie!" Alfred cried, hugging his…boyfriend *retard happy face* "I totally forgot, dude! I'll be your hero! Don't worry! I can like totally make you feel better!"

_Arthur sniffed. "Really?"_

_"Really."_

_And then Alfred's lips crashed into Arthur's and they had amazing sex and loved each other forever. The End._

Just kidding. Here's what really happened:

"Bloody wanker! Who cares about your hero antics? My bloody mother died!" Arthur wiggled. "Now get off!"

Alfred pouted, and stole a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry, Artie!"

And then he blacked out.

Because a fist made contact with his face.

But it was totally worth it.

OoOoO

Gilbert and Matthew were all fluffy and snuggly...in bed.

Yeah. You guys missed one fucking awesome smut scene. (Get it? "Fucking" like sex, and then "Awesome"? No?)

Yeah. I don't think my beta can handle the descriptions.

BUT THEY DID FUCK.

JUST TO CLARIFY.

Canada topped.

OoOoO

Cozumel and Peter woke up in a jail cell, with Kiku and Eliza.

"CRAP! Not again!" Cozumel said, glaring at the bars.

Peter sighed. "At least it's only the holding cell…by why the hell are Cozumel and I here? We're kids!"

Eliza shook her head. "England is fucked up."

_By America! Oooh! Burn!_

Cozumel stared at Peter. "You know a lot about prisons."

"Well, duh. I've been in juvi enough times."

Kiku was sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth, wondering just why he was Eliza's friend.

"Really? Was it because of the gringa?"

Peter shook his head. "You mean Elly? No. I've only known her for a few days."

"Well, then what for?"

"Riding a goat into a bank and demanding they swab the deck, whilst pointing a gun at everyone."

Cozumel smiled. "Man, chico. You aren't so bad."

OoOo

Francis, seeing a romantic opportunity, got on a plane bound for Scotland immediately. (Now, I'm just going to bend time…)

He practically ran to Arthur's brother's house…his name was what…Dave? Bah, it didn't matter. HE WAS GONNA HAVE SEX!

OoOoO

Regan grumbled as she opened the door. Who was here at this hour? It's bloody morning; she'll rip them to shreds…

A something clung to her when she opened the door. It whispered sweet nothings into her ear and grabbed her butt.

And then she killed it.

"OMPF!"

Oh, wait. It was French, those things don't die easily.

"Oh, mon cher…I don't remember you punching so—oh," Francis sat up, staring at Regan. "You are a girl."

Regan snickered. "Well, shit man. I would make a gay sex joke, butt fuck it."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "You act like him, though…"

Regan eyed down the blonde, and then got bored and waltzed away. The frog followed. "You're not too smart, are you?" he said. "Letting a complete stranger into your house."

"It's not my house."

"Oh?" Francis edged closer to the girl. "Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"You sound bored, mon cher."

"Really? But you're _so _entertaining."

OoOo

Pablo clutched his hair and fell to his knees. "WHY?" he screamed at the sky. "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?"

He shivered against the cold breeze—was there a storm coming?

The waves at the deserted beach crashed violently against the shore. "THE SUFFERING IS UNIMAGINABLE!" he yelled as he covered his teary eyes.

He lay on the sand, broken, and staring at the graying sky. His brown eyes were barely able to dam back the water behind them.

The wind picked up, causing him to shiver.

He slouched up, and pointed a single, accusing finger at the sky. "YOU," he bellowed.

"You did this to me!"

His eyebrows scrunched down in pain. "YOU ARE THE ONE WHO GAVE THE AUTHOR WRITER'S BLOCK!"

He pulled out a gun from who knows where, and threw it at the sky. "DAMN YOU!"

He kicked at the sand, ran wildly about the beach all the while screaming, "IHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOU!"

He ran into the embrace of the waves. "God, you'll pay! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!"

And then Pablo drowned himself, presumably because the author was bored and no longer needed him.

But she'll probably resurrect him later. Don't worry.

**OoOoOoO**

Hi, everyone! It's Dara!

So, my original deadline for this chapter was a long time ago…

But then I forgot about it.

So then Mallory gave me a deadline of Saturday night. It's 1:30am, Friday.

Um…yeah…

So, really, it's my fault that this is behind.

By the way everyone,

I'm going to get revenge on you.

Why?

Because I was forced to read PruCan.

And so…

THE GAME.

**OoOoOoO**


	25. Beta bye bye

Arthur and Alfred finally prepared and made it to the funeral, all limbs intact. When they arrived, Arthur had to introduce Alfred to half a million Relatives, and then nearly cried when Alfred introduced himself as Arthur's 'boyfriend'.

They finally found some seats near the front, and Arthur dragged Alfred away from a group of his Aunts.

"Alfred! You can't just go about embarrassing me like that bec-"

"Mon cher!" A bubbly voice said, hugging Arthur like some perverted bear. "Oh mon cher, you have no idea how worried I was for you!" Francis said, pulling back.

"Wha- Wha- WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!"

Regan appeared from behind the blonde pervert, looking tired and worn out. "I can explain." She said, her voice monotone. "I pickpocketed you the other day."

At this, Arthur began frantically searching through his pockets.

"I stole you wallet and your phone." Regan continued. "I prank called the frog, something about a break-up and wanting to have sex."

"So being the kind friend I am I rushed right over!" Francis exclaimed. "But alas, when I arrived at your brother's home this _she demon _was awaiting me."

"She demon my ass. You're the one who raped me."

"Come now, you liked it."

"I did not! You fuck like a dog!"

Arthur and Alfred had been watching this exchange in shocked silence, but Davis came over and interrupted. "They did." He said. His eyes had thick black lines under them, and he looked about ready to pass out. "They really did. Poor Mitchell…"

"Huh? What about Mitchell?" Arthur asked, concerned. He had always had a soft spot for the youngest brother.

"Well…" Regan began.

"He rushed in the house at around…four in the morning. Maybe five." Davis interrupted. "He was babbling something about gay sex, and images being right and other non-sense." Davis said.

"So, he sent Mitchell up to bed, but Francis and I were…"

"Busy." Francis suggested. "The poor boy…"

"Oh bloody hell, where is he?" Arthur asked, concern lining his face.

The trio pointed.

It the corner of the room, where it almost seemed unnaturally dark, sat a poor, scarred, seventeen year old boy. He was shivering, clutching his eyes, and rocking back and forth in beetle position.

Arthur took pity on his, and wandered over. He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, and prompted him softly. "Mitchell…Mitchell, it's okay. You'll eventually forget…"

Mitchell stiffened, and looked up at the Englishman with sunken eyes. Then, he let out the most horrifying scream.

"FFFFFFF-"

**OoOoO**

"Ve!~" Feliciano screamed, running towards his blonde companion. "Ludwig! Ludwig!"

The German turned from the hedge he had just been grooming, and raised an eyebrow. "What is it now, Feli."

"Ve~! It's a revolt! A revolt!"

"WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM, FELI?" Ludwig yelled as the brunette latched on to his arm and began crying.

"Ve~! Ve~! I wanted to help protect your yard from those bugs that you told me about, so I raised a pasta army!"

"…A pasta army."

"Ve~! Yeah! But they committed treason! They licked me to death!"

"They licked you…?"

"Cats have rough tongues!" Feliciano exclaimed.

"Cats? You raised an army of cats?"

"Ve! Yeah!"

**OoOoO**

"Hey, Mattie." Gilbert said. "I feel like we're being ignored."

"Welcome to the club."

**OoOOoO**

When the police finally released the two minors from prison. (They swore they thought they were adults!) Cozumel and Peter roamed the streets, bored, immature, and arguing.

"Call me little one more time and I'll-"

"Shh!" Cozumel snapped, shoving a hand over Peter's mouth. "Do you know where you are?" He whispered, pulling the struggling Peter into an alley.

"You are in the hood, gringo!" Cozumel told him. "It is better you don't walk around in the open. You're a target waiting to be hit."

Peter's eyes widened in understanding.

Dammit, the black people thought _they _had it bad! Ha! The worst that could happen to them is get sued! Peter could get stabbed, shot, raped…so on and so forth….

"Hey Cozumel." He whispered. "Wouldn't it be worse if we were hanging around the alleys…?"

"Oh, shit!"

**OoOOoO**

**Hey guys! Mallory here, typing types. First off, I'd like to apologize for my non-updating. My beta has become really lazy. And so I'll be giving her a break for a while. (You don't mind, do you?) So I'm sorry for my fail grammar. **

**But I have some news! I am now taking requests. Or rather, I'm looking at them. **

**HAHA! So like, you send in a request or idea, and I'll try to fit it in to the story. (If it's any good).**

**So Yeah! Pretty awesome, dudes! But I'd also like to thank you guys for the near 200 reviews. I never imagined this would get that far! YOU GUYS ROCK! I love you, my lovely little lemon drops! Until next time!**

**-Mallory**


	26. Writers Block and Alfred's Speech

Hey guys. Feel free to yell at me for not updating. I'll probably get a new chapter out this weekend.

I'll give you a little snippet for now to keep you from murdering me. But this is mostly me talking. I'm really sorry.

I have writers block. But for some odd reeason, only with this story. So? Any suggestions? I'll take anything-ideas for the story, pairing requests, character requests, cures for writers block-anything!

I'd also like to tell you that my beta will be leaving us for a while because I've decided to give her a SHORT break becasue she's in a IB school and has loads of homework. (And her birthday is coming up!)

Also because I have to write some PruCan smut to keep YOU GUYS happy, (little pervs) and that's just awkward to send to a friend...

so yeah.

Smut coming up.

Oh, stop the nosebleed.

I was also thinking of changing the style of the story a little. Like, less of a crack fic that's like "BAM! IMMA BE IN YOUR FACE!"

and more of a fic that like

funny

angst

funny again

serious smut

funny

angst

funny.

What do you guys think?

YOUR OPINION IS MOST IMPORTANAT.

YES.

Anyways, here's your little sneak peak like thing:

"My mother was a wonderful woman..." Arthur said, scanning the solem crowd. He could see Davis sitting beside a surely insane Micheal-poor chap.

Alfred was sitting just where Arthur had left him, twiddling his thumbs and looking at Arthur.

Francis was no where to be seen-probably off molesting some poor mourning girl-and Regan was pretending to cry for her lost mother.

Arthur's father sat in the very back of the room-he had arived late. There were bags under hs eyes, he looked a few years older. Arthur hadn't seen him for quite a long time. He was probably the nly family member besides Arthur's mum that he missed.

"I remember, she used to always greet us with a smile..." He said. He was sure he was doing this wrong. His palms were sweaty. What was he supposed to say? "Um..." The Brit looked to Alfred for help.

The self proclaimed hero smiled and stood up, walking over to the podium.

"Hello." Alfred said to the crowd. "I'm Alfred F. Jones, if I haven't had a chance to meet y'all yet."

Arthur flinched. This was going to be embarrasing...

"I never got to meet Arthur's mom." He said. "But I know she has to have been a real cool lady."

The crowd mummured amongst themeselves. The ones that hadn't talked with Alfred asked "An American?" "Who is he?"

The ones that had smiled up expectantly. This boy was just endearing!

"I know she was a good lady 'cause I have honestly stood in her shoes for a little bit."

Arthur gaped at Alfred. What was he talking about...?

"I have been here for about two, three days and I am about ready to rip my hair out." He said. "I'm sure y'all know the kirkland kids, and man are they annoying."

The crowd laughed at this, some good natured, some nervous, but most genuinly amused. "I mean, dude." Alfred sighed. "Davis is a total jerk, Micheal is completely insane, and Regan is probably the scariest girl I've ever met."

More laughter.

"And don't even get me started on Arthur over here." Alfred rolled his eyes. The brit lunged at him, but he held him back like an older brother to a young boy. "What with his random mood swings, Frickin' _ridiculous. _Not to mention he always calls me a 'bloody git' and a 'numpty'. I don't even know what a numpty _is! _Honestly, the guy makes no sense and he always freaks out over the littlest things."

At this point, the crowd was close to tears of laughter: This boy had Arthur to a T!

...And Arthur was attempting murder.

"But y'know, their mom put up with 'em all, twenty-four-seven. And I've heard some awesome things about her. So, y'know, it kinda makes me proud to know these guys. And it kinda makes me want to be part of their family."

Arthur froze.

"And so, yeah, their mom died. But...she still managed to make me happy. Even after she died. And so, I think that she's really cool for that." Alfred finished with a cough. "So, yeah. Arthur, you can stop trying to kill me now."


	27. Prucan Smut and SuFin fluff

**HAHA! Here's the smut you've all heard about! It might not be what you expect... XD**

* * *

><p>And so with much regret from the author we resume our tale.<p>

Matthew followed Gilbert up the stairs to his apartment. "Gil…I don't feel good."

"Heheh!" Gilbert laughed. "Yes you do, Mattie! You didn't barf on me this time!"

"Hmmm." Matthew mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Okay…"

"Aw! You're adorable, Mattie!" Gilbert said, collecting his boyfriend in a hug.

That hug quickly turned into a drunken kiss.

Gilbert pressed the Canadian up against the apartment door. "Nfmmm." He mumbled.

Matthew titled his head to give better access to his mouth. He wrapped his arms around Gilbert's neck. He could feel to alcohol pumping through his veins. He could taste beer on Gilbert's tongue. It all felt so _good._

"Gil." Matthew panted, not caring about the fact that Gil's hand was now VERY MUCH on Matthew's ass. "Let's…open the…"

Gilbert nodded, and fetched the keys from Matthew's pocket. (This made the Canadian's vital regions go wild.)

He unlocked the apartment door and immediately pushed Matthew down on the couch. The blonde didn't complain.

Gilbert's tongue was needy and sloppy in Matthew's mouth; they slid over each other in practiced ease. Gilbert felt up Matthew's ass with glee. He had dreamed of this day!

"Gil…" Matthew whispered, his hands sneaking up the albino's shirt.

"Mnnn." Was all the Prussian could really say.

Soon, both their shirts were off. Then the pants.

"Mattie…" Gilbert breathed, attacking the Youngers neck with sloppy kisses. He ground down in a need for friction, causing Matthew to moan.

Their lips connected again, and they both began grinding—those stupid boxers getting in the way.

"Mattie…Do you want to…?"

"Yeah." Matthew replied, his hands already taking off the formers boxers.

Once the stupid unimportant oh so _evil _underwear of death where thrown France knows where, the two resumed their, ah…rather gratifying "couch dance".

"Matthew…" Gilbert breathed, nosing into the Canadian's hair. He took a somewhat messy strand of hair into his mouth, not really meaning anything by it, but the reaction he got was-

"AH~!"

"Hmmmn?" Gilbert said, lifting one of the eyelids he couldn't remember closing. Matthew just looked so damned adorable, his cheeks flushed and his glasses askew.

Gilbert smiled evilly and reached down for Matthew's…his…um…

Well, YOU know what he reached for.

He began pumping his hand over it, causing Matthew to groan in pleasure.

"Gil…" Matthew moaned.

The fuck? What the hell was Gilbert getting hard for? No, Matthew saying his name like that totally didn't turn him on. Nope. Not at all.

Gilbert flipped Matthew over (awesomely) and took a look at DAT ASS.

Okay,_ that _turned him on.

He began stretching him out (the fuck. Don't ask me for details. You all should know this, you sick perverts.)

"Okay…" Gilbert panted. "I'm…I'm putting it in…"

"What?" Matthew asked, peeking over his shoulder. "Well, no shit Sherlock. How'd you think butt sex works?"

"Oh, shut up." Gilbert said, thrusting into Matthew's _divine _ass.

Oh hell yes.

**OoooO**

After the funeral Alfred insisted going out for something to eat. "But Artie, I'm _starving!"_

The Brit reluctantly agreed. "Damn bloody git! Fine! But we're _not _going to McDonalds!"

And so for some reason Arthur found himself in a fancy freaking _five-star _restaurant. "Alfred!" He whispered. "What are we doing _here?"_

"Huh?" Alfred asked, looking over his shoulder as he followed the nice waitress to their table. "Well, you said no McDonalds so I picked the second best place."

"You bloody git! You can't just bring me to a _five star _restaurant without telling me! And how are you supposed to afford this?"

"Dude, calm down." Alfred said, sitting down in a secluded booth and smiling at the waitress. "I know the owner."

"You _what?"_

"I know the owner. He's a pretty cool guy. We used to hate each other when we were kids, though. Ahaha…"

"Alfred." Arthur said sternly, sitting down across from the American. "How the bloody hell do you know a Scottish five star restaurant owner?"

"Well, when I was still living in America he was my neighbor. We hated each other, the freaking commie. But he's pretty cool now. If only he'd stop threatening me with those _stupid _pictures."

Arthur wasn't going to ask.

"Hello, Alfred. It's about time you visited me, da?"

"Dude! Ivan!" Alfred said, giving him a bro-hug and a fist bump. "Bro, it's been forever! How's it going with your sisters?"

"They are…healthy." Ivan said with a creepy smile.

"Well, that's awesome!" Alfred said, not missing a beat. "Hey, meet Arthur, my boyfriend."

Said Englishman blushed at the title but held out his hand anyway. "Hello."

Ivan shook the blonde's hand aggressively, smiling with venom and saying: "Hello, _Arthur. _A pleasure to meet you. You won't hurt Alfred ever, da"

"D-d I mean yes." Arthur stuttered, pulling back his precious hand. He rather liked his hand, thank you very much! No need to crush it!

"I will send some food out, da?"

"Okay, bro! Thanks! We'll have to talk later."

"Of course." Ivan said, turning back to the kitchen.

"So." Alfred said, sitting back down. "how you like him?"

"He fucking scared the shit out of me, AND he hurt my favorite hand!"

**OoOoOoO**

"Dammit, you fucking bastard!" Romano said after opening the door. "I thought you died!"

"Aw, Romano that's no way to treat your cousin!"

"For the last fucking time, you're Antonio's cousin! Not mine!"

Pablo huffed, crossing his arms. "And here I thought he proposed to you. Silly me."

"Dammit, you fucking bastard!" Romano yelled, tackling Pablo. "Say that again and I'll-"

"You'll what? Go gay on me?"

"Fuck you!"

"Yeah, I'd bet you'd like that. Wouldn't you, faggot?"

**OoOoOoO**

Cozumel and Peter stared at the very very scary man at the end of the alley. "Well." Peter whispered. "At least he's white."

"Oh, shut up." Cozumel whispered back.

"You two." The man said, his glasses glaring in the fading light. "You two shouldn't be out this late."

"Dude! It's like, six o' clock!" Cozumel protested. "Yeah!" Peter agreed for emphasis.

"C'me with me." The man said, grabbing the boys arms and leading them out of the ghetto. He dragged them all the way back to town, here he shoved them into an apartment. By this time, the children had already decided he was probably a maniac killer unicorn in disguise and was going to kill them. So you could imagine their surprise when they were met by a warm apartment and the smell of dinner.

"Ah!" A sweet man said from the kitchen, running over to the door. "Berwald, who are these boys?"

"They w're out in the b'd part o' t'wn and I got'em out." The strong man replied, rather bluntly.

"Ah! They must be terrified! Really, Ber, don't you ever think before you act? Poor things." The smaller of the blonde men bent down and smiled gently at the children. "Don't mind my husband, now. I know he's all bark and no bite. Would you like some dinner?"

"Yes." Cozumel automatically said. If there was one thing he learned from growing up in slums, it was that you should take food whenever and wherever.

But Peter had other concerns. "You guys are married?" He asked.

"He's m'wife." Berwald said. Pulling Tino to his side.

"But you're both guys!" Peter exclaimed.

Cozumel rolled his eyes. "They're just faggots, Peter. Now about that food…"

* * *

><p><strong>HAHA! I know, I know. I'm just terrible at writing smut. So I had to use humor.<strong>

**I REALLY hate the "I'm putting it in" line. It's like: well no shit. That's the whole concept of butt sex! Or really any sex for that matter!**

**So...yeah. I filled some of my requests! HAZAH! Romano and Ivan! And Gilby sucking on Mattie's curl XD**

**I don't know why I added Finland and Sweden...I guess I just like them. RANDOMNESS!**

**And as promised, Pablo came back to life! Damn..this whole story was basically requests. **

**PLEASE KEEP SENDING MORE! It helps me out of my writers block and reminds me whyI love writing this. YOU GUYS!**

**Y'all are awesome! And the weather is too! A rainy day is the best day to write yaoi!**

**I'd also like to apologize for swedens accent. I hope you can understand it. I was just like drop a vowel here, put a ' there...**

**Yeah. LONG ATHOURS NOTE IS LONG.**

**Sorry for any mistakes! It's my beta's birthday!**

**-Mallory**


	28. The next Day

**Hey guys! Not much funny in here. But there's some fluff. Hope yu can bear with me!**

"Oh god…" Matthew groaned. His head was pounding; his mouth tasted like stale beer, and god was his back killing him.

"Ow…" Another voice growled from the floor. Gilbert sat up and looked at his boyfriend. "What the hell happened last night?"

Matthew tried to sit up, but he was met with a burning pain in Ontario (if you know what I mean). "Had sex." He moaned.

"Oh yeah!" Gilbert remembered, standing up rather quickly (he still wasn't wearing any clothes). "I just had seeeex! And it felt so good!"

"Shut up." Matthew said, punching him in the stomach. "One day I want to have sex without being drunk, y'know."

Gilbert backed away. _Oh no. Not the needy clingy shit… _"Um…" He trailed off.

But Matthew wasn't really needy or clingy. He just wanted to remember the sex he had last night. So ignoring Gilbert's clearly panicked look, Matthew stood up slowly (pain coming from both ends, head and majestic ass). "Where did my underwear go?" he mumbled to himself.

"Hey Mattie…Did we ever shut the door?" Gilbert asked.

"Shit!"

**OoOoOoO**

Alfred sat up and looked around. _Damn. _Turns out that he _didn't _have sex last night. He groaned and sat up from the stiff hotel couch, dragging himself over to the coffee machine.

Pressing a couple of buttons, Alfred managed to wake up enough to look about the room.

Arthur was sitting quietly in bed, reading a book (and a HUGE book at that). How did he look so cute while doing that?

"Alfred." Arthur said without looking up. "Come here."

Alfred did as he was told, shuffling over sleepily. Arthur pulled him onto the bed, so that Alfred's head was in his lap and the American's legs hung over the edge.

"Artie…?" Alfred asked.

"Alfred, how much school are you missing to be here?"

"…a lot."

"And how come you didn't tell me?"

"…You'd worry."

"Stupid git." Arthur said, finally putting the book down to look the "git" in the eyes.

Alfred smiled up at the Brit, completely at home with his decision. "I love you." He said.

Arthur froze.

If one were to look down on the earth at that moment, they would've seen a huge crack form in Scotland. This crack would've expanded across the entire globe, and then giant volcanoes would erupt and kill everybody. Even if there were to be any survivors, it was short-lived, because the world simply imploded a few minutes afterward. Then the remaining pieces hurtled into the sun.

Darn. And I was really looking forward to summer break.

**OooOooO**

"Romano!" Antonio said, pulling the irate Italian off of Pablo. "Calm down! I'm sure Pablo was just joking!"

"Si! Si!" The Mexican cried from the ground. "Damn! I thought Italians were supposed to be weak!"

"Ve! Fratello! Fratello!" A new voice screeched, followed by pounding footsteps. "Ve! There's a monster!"

A brunette smashed through the gate and threw himself into his brother's arms. "A terrible monster, ve!" He sobbed.

Suddenly, a four legged, slobbering animal appeared: its teeth bared and its fur standing on end.

"Dammit, Feli! It's just a toy poodle!"

"Ve!" The Italian screamed. "Please don't eat me! Really, I'd taste terrible! I know I eat a lot of pasta, ve, but I don't taste like pasta at all! Please don't hurt me! You can have my fire hydrant! Please, I'll do anything (well I mean within reason) I know a dog! Three dogs! I'm sure you guys are related, or at least in some way…DON'T EAT ME!"

Pablo would never understand Europeans.

**OooOooO**

BAM. The door was flung open by a very loud, very pissed Hungarian. "Peter! Cozumel!" She shouted. "I have come to rescue/film you!"

"Ah!" Tino squeaked.

Elizabeta's eyes found him, and she glared a glare glarey enough to kill. "YOU." She said.

"Ah! Eliza-san, please! We don't even know if the boys are here—"

"Gringa?" Cozumel said sleepily, rubbing his eyes. He was propping himself up on an air mattress, Peter beside him, snoring. "What are you doing here? I thought you got locked up…"

"Oh!" Tino said, coming closer to the Hungarian. "Are these your boys? I'm so sorry! My husband found them wandering the bad part of town so he brought them back here…"

"Stop." Elizabeta said, holding up her hand. "Did you say husband?"

"Um, yes. I did."

A huge smile spread across Eliza's face. "I'm incredibly sorry!" She said, shaking the blonde man's hand. "Really, I hope you could find it in your heart to forgive me! Perhaps I can take you and your husband out to lunch as an apology?"

Tino startled. "Oh, well, that's very kind of you but…"

Eliza walked over to the boys, shaking Peter awake. "Now wake up boys! You're going to learn a new lesson today!"

"I don't want to…" Cozumel whined, burrowing under the sheets.

Eliza's eyes flickered from Cozumel, to Peter, and back again.

Then she straightened up and slowly turned to face a very confused Tino. "How. Did. You. Do. It?"

**OooOooO**

"Ohonhon!" Francis laughed, grabbing onto Regan's arm. "What has 142 teeth and holds back the incredible hulk?" He asked.

Regan sighed, already given up on ditching the pervert. "What?" She asked.

"My zipper. Ohonhonhonhon!"

Regan and Davis shared a _please kill me now _look. "Francis, go away."

"What? You want to be rid of the ravishing and beautiful moi?"

"YES. I have been trying to tell you that for HOURS." Davis screamed.

Francis backed away and clutched at his heart. "You have hurt me." He said dramatically. "How could I ever go on, knowing you (ugly) lovely people have turned me down?"

He flipped his hair back, and bit a handkerchief dramatically (where did that come from?). "Really, I think I might just…perish!" He cried, holding his hand to his forehead.

"Tell my family…wait. I don't have any family. Okay, tell Arthur..."

Francis paused for dramatic effect.

"Tell Arthur…I've always hated him and I wish he burns in hell for forcing the world to suffer at his HUGE eyebrows and horrid cooking."

"Will do." Davis said, giving the dying Frenchman a thumbs-up.

"And also tell him…I've always wanted to have sweet, sweet intercourse with him."

Regan and Davis cringed.

"Just die already."

* * *

><p><strong>Told you there wasn't much humor. There will be in the next chapter, though! This wasn't really anything but setting up for the next update. :P<strong>

**So sorry. I'm still taking requests! **

**Sorry for any mistakes, I'm American!**

**I love you, my lovely little lemon drops! Until next time!**

**-Mallory**


	29. Gay Love and Strep Throat

Alfred watched Arthur's face change from pure horror, to utter fear, to _whatisthisIdon'teven_

In about five seconds flat. "Artie?" Alfred asked, poking at the blonde's cheek. "You okay?"

"You…just…"

"I said I love you." Alfred prodded; a smirk clearly visible on his face.

_He loves me…_Arthur thought. _He's the first person who's ever loved me and oh my god my life sucks and angst and stuff that everyone's already read in every other frickin' fic on the planet…_

"Well screw that." Arthur told his thoughts, and slammed his mouth into Alfred's.

Which hurt, dammit. Because slamming mouth together isn't a very pleasant thing to experience, I'll tell you.

So he just kissed him instead.

**OoOoO**

After Matthew and Gilbert shut the door of the Canadian's apartment, Gil turned to Matt with a worried face. "Birdie…" He said cautiously. "About what you were saying earlier…"

"Huh?" Matthew asked, turning around. "About my underwear? Yeah…I still can't find them…"

Gilbert sighed and shook his head. "No, Mattie. Not the stupid piece of cloth things that cover DAT ASS. No, before that."

"You mean about having sex when we weren't drunk…?"

Gilbert nodded and looked away, scared of what would come next. Probably some breakdown about how much Matthew loved him and wanted him to love him too…

"So about my underwear…" Matthew said, searching the ground.

Gilbert's head snapped up and his jaw fell open. "What?" He yelled. "That's it? You just move on?"

"What? Do you want me to burst into tears and beg you to fuck me?" Matthew turned around (again) with his hands on his bare hips.

"Yes!" Gilbert cried, exasperated. "That's exactly what I want!"

"Oh." Matthew's face cleared with understanding. He remained standing for a few seconds, and then fell to his knees, his eyes becoming teary. "Gil…" He chocked. "Come here…"

Gilbert crouched down, and Matthew looked at him with tears flowing down his cheeks. "Gil…I…" Matthew paused, and then slammed his fist into Gilbert's face. He stood up and towered of the albino who was clutching his (awesome) cheek in surprise. "Ow! What was that for?"

"I think you can go fuck yourself, Gil! Don't you dare come in here and demand me to beg you for sex! Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I think I'm Gilbert the awesome Prussian!"

"You belong in a mental hospital!"

"You need a therapist!"

"I hate you!"

"No, I hate you!"

"Can't we both hate each other?"

"No! That's not allowed!"

"Why not, eh?"

"Because those are the rules…that I've just made up."

"Oh. Hey, what were we fighting about?"

"No idea. Want to go get some food?"

"Yeah, sure. Just help me find my underwear first."

And thus a healthy relationship was born.

**OoOoOooooOoOoO**

Romano shoved his younger brother off of him and turned to the Spaniard in exasperation.

Antonio chuckled and picked Pablo and Feli off the ground. "Pablo." He said to his cousin. "Do me a favor and take Feli to Ludwig's house. Okay?"

Pablo brushed himself off and looked at the blubbering Italian. (He was saying something about potato pasta). "Yeah." Pablo shrugged. "But he's gonna help me look for Cozumel first."

"Yay!" Feliciano cried, clapping his hands like some kind of retarded seal. "New friends!"

…Maybe he is a retarded seal.

Anyways.

Pablo dragged him off, promising things like pasta and tomatoes and Germans.

**OoOooOoO**

Pablo was getting damn annoyed by the constant whining that poured from the brunette's' mouth.

"Ve~! I'm tired!" "Hungry" "Bored!" "I want Pasta!" "Eeeck! It's trying to kill me! Oh…no, it's just a spoon."

So it wasn't a surprise when he finally gave in and was sitting at a booth in a run-down karaoke restaurant.

But what did come as a surprise was the two young boys singing a song for a small audience of an Asian man, two blondes, and a very excited brown-haired girl who kept taking pictures.

The lyrics were weird…

"_Gay love, with your heart I will play, love,  
>Until you come my way, love,<br>I'll be waiting for you."_

Cozumel and Peter were belting out the lyrics, there arms on each other's shoulders. A smaller girl with blonde hair stood in the background and took pictures with a disposable camera.

_WHAT. THE. HELL._

**OoOooooOoO**

Francis slugged out of the door, clutching his arm. It was a hell of a good thing he was French: and therefore impossible to kill.

Kind of like strep throat. It just keeps coming back. The only difference is strep throat gives you a sore throat, and the French give HIV and Chlamydia.

But you know, c'est la vie.

Anyways, Francis was walking all angsty and depressed-like towards Alfred and Arthur's apartment (because he clearly had no friends and was forever alone).

And he would've made it there too, if it weren't for those meddling new characters and their sisters.

"MARRY ME!" A very pretty woman screeched, taking after a huge pale skinned man, who (understandably) running for his life.

Francis was sympathetic towards men in the grasp of needy women, the poor saps who got trapped in the terrible proposal of _marriage. _

Francis crinkled his nose and decided to step in.

"Ohonhon~! Please, mon cher! There is no need for violence! We are all amis here, no?"

"NO!" The woman screamed, plunging a knife into the Frenchman's shoulder. "Holy shit!" The blonde cried, falling to his knees.

"She just stabbed me!" He screamed.

The girl ventured off after her brother, who was slowly getting away.

Francis stared at the knife sticking out of his flesh. "Did you see that?" He asked a random passer-by.

"She just fucking stabbed me!"

**Hey you guys! I've arisen from the dead! And let me tell you, that was no easy feat. Hell has the WORST traffic. You have no idea. But I finally got out of there and quickly rushed over to my computer and started typing.**

**Just for you.**

**You're welcome.**

**Anyways, I'm still taking requests! You guys inspire me, so please keep sending them!**

**I love you, my lovely little lemon drops!**

**Sorry for any mistakes, I'm too lazy to send this to my beta!**

**-Mallory**


	30. The Power Of Hungary

Hey guys! This is Hungary speaking. I hijacked Mallory's computer. For the sake of yaoi, we're time skipping! :D

I know! But calm down. This is a crack fic. It doesn't have to make sense!

Now, my disciples of lemons; let me get you caught up.

Alfred and Arthur were all lovey dovey in Scotland. Davis and Arthur had a fight, Mitchell curled up in a ball and cried, and Regan went off to drink.

Later on, Alfred visited Russia but that's not important besides the fact he was being impaled with a spork (which I hear is much more painful than a spoon.) by his younger and very crazy sister.

Why that Belarus girl wastes so much time on boys I'll never know. *hypocrite*

Anyways.

Francis raped Regan for the second time, but I'm not interested in that because it's hetero.

Matthew and Gilbert (damn him) went out a few times and did boring stuff like talk. What relationship needs talking?

Kiku and I have a lovely lunch with Mr. and Mr. Tino and Berwald. Very nice couple.

Peter and Cozumel have shown wondrous signs of improvement towards the light that is yaoi! They both are much nicer to each other now, but are sadly, just friends. But we'll get to that later.

And last, (and certainly least) Romano and Pablo returned home to Spain's house, where they had a delightful dinner of Pizza and Tomatoes. Feliciano joined them, along with Ludwig, and at the end of the night they all had smexy times.

Except for Pablo.

He's forever alone.

Now, Mallory, you may have the lead.

**OoOooooOoO**

"Artie." Alfred said, poking the Englishman as they loaded onto the plane. "I hate these things…"

Arthur sighed, shoving his carry-on under the chair in front of his and slumping onto the old recliner. "Why?" He asked Alfred, who was currently seated between him and the Frog. "Are you scared?"

"Pft. No." Al waved his hand; as if to brush off the statement. "It's just that _every time _I go on an airplane a bratty kid sits behind me and-"

_Thunk._

Arthur's chair lurched forward, and a small giggle could be heard behind him.

"-And they do that the whole time…" Alfred finished.

Arthur shot him a death glare, because it was clearly all his fault.

"Don't be like that, mon cher!" Francis said, reaching to poke the Englishman in the face. "Turn that frown upside down, no? Think of it as a free massage!"

_Thump._

Arthur's chair lurched forward at the precise moment Alfred decided to put his tray table down, which in turn caused Arthur's head to slam against the plastic _thing of doom and pain. _

"A free massage for your head, that is." Francis corrected, nodding at this new fact and crossing his arms in self-assurance.

**OoOooooOoO**

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" Elizabeta screamed, chasing after Cozumel (who was only _just _a bit slower than Peter) "ALL NORMAL BOYS DOIT!"

"Then I don't want to be a normal boy!" The poor boy yelled in retort.

"I'm glad to hear that! Join the gay side!"

Kiku jumped into the fight with a small "We have doujins."

Peter had already climbed onto the roof somehow, and was just barley managing to hang from a crner and a light fixture. "Help!" Cozumel screamed to him, but Peter was not a bout to risk his life. Especially if Eliza was down there.

**OoOooooOoO**

"Peter and Cozumel were nice boys." Tino said, sitting on the couch.

"Mhhhm." His husband replied, not really paying attention. "I mean." Tino said. "I really like them. And not just them. But all kids."

"Mhhhm."

"Berwald. I want kids."

"Mhhhm"

You're not even paying attention!"

"Yes'un."

"No, you're not!"

"Yes'un. Get s'me kids then."

"Oh." Tino sat back and rested his head on the couch. "Okay."

"Mhhhm."

**OoOooooOoO**

"MATTIE!" A very feminine voice screamed, hurtling down the stairs. "It's gonna eat me!"

"No it won't, Gil! At least if it's any good at killing it won't. Because if it's good at killing it's smart. And if it's smart it won't eat something like _you._"

Gilbert burst into the kitchen and clung to Matthew's legs. "I mean it this time!" He said urgently. "It's big and yellow and—and right there!"

In the doorway stood the most terrifying clawed, evil and ferocious chick you've ever seen.

And jusding by the amount of chicks you've seen, you could guess this one wasn't too scary.

"Gilbert, it's a baby chicken."

"Just look into it's eyes!" Gilbert said, pointing. "They practically scream imminent rape!"

Matthew shook his head and pried the wuss off his legs. "Gil, it's just a baby chicken." He said, stooping to pick it up.

"See?"

He held the thing close to his face, only to have it jump into his hair and start trying to "lay the eggs before the nest" if y'know what I'm saying.

"Ah!" Matthew screamed, pawing at his head. "You were right! Ew! Get it off! GET IT OFF!"

**And we'll leave it at that.**

**So guys! I'm alive! It's crazy-I know. But my beta has gone M.I.A. and I can't track her down anywhere. So for now you get a grammatically incorrect chapter until she decides to return from the grave. **

**I love you, my lovely little lemons drops! Until next time, review!**

**-Mallory**


	31. YOU OWE ME

**Warning: Smut**

Arthur dumped his stuff in Alfred's apartment. It had been some-what decided that he'd live there, just as it was somewhat decided that Matthew would live with Gilbert.

"I'm glad to finally be away from there." Arthur sighed, stretching out on the couch. Alfred tugged off his jacket and threw it on top of his luggage to go sit beside the Englishman.

"Hnn…" He muttered as he snuggled into Arthur's side. "Artie…I love you."

"Ninny."

Alfred sat up and smiled, trying and failing to hold back laughter. "Ninny? What the hell is a ninny?"

"It's! It's what you are, you ninny!" Arthur cried indignantly.

Alfred pressed his lips to Arthur's, humming into the short kiss. When he pulled away, he left behind a very frazzled Arthur. "What the bloody hell? What's this all the sudden?"

"Nothin'." Alfred said, bending over the Englishman so they were both lying over the couch. "Just…"

But Alfred never finished his sentence. Instead, he just curled his fingers into Arthur's shaggy hair and pressed his lips onto the others, begging for entry with his tongue. The Englishman relented and soon they were both kissing feverently.

"Al…" Arthur breathed, tracing his hands up the American's chest, reveling in the firm muscle. He felt the American toy with his hair. "I love you too…" He said, his hands going beneath the clothing barrier to trace the American's well-pronounced abs.

Alfred pulled away from their kiss for a moment with a strange look on his face. His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, useless, just as Arthur's pants were unbuttoned (when did that happen?). "Hey, Artie…do you wanna…" Alfred blushed and motioned towards the bedroom.

Arthur looked at the hallway, it seemed so long. But he blushed like the tsundere he is and nodded his consent, and Alfred picked him up with a ridiculously huge smile and crossed that hallway in .5 seconds. A new record. He tossed Arthur on the bed and began working off his shirt.

Arthur was still a little woozy from the flight (and the complementary liquor) and all this sudden kissing and touching and moaning wasn't doing much for his poor cluttered brain.

But he tilted his chin and felt Alfred's tongue poking at his, prompting him out of his momentary vegetable-state. Arthur didn't have much use for his brain at the moment, (thinking is a dangerous thing, you know) so he traced his way down Alfred's chest and began working at his buckle, feeling all legitimate thoughts melt away. With a few puffs of air and moaned names, the pants (and underwear) were off, and the two stared at each other for a moment.

But it didn't take long for Alfred to attack. He cupped Arthur's cheek with one hand and stroked the Englishman's already-hard cock with the other. He felt awkward and stupid, not really knowing what he was doing. But he figured that it was just like when he did it to himself…right?

Meanwhile Arthur was reveling in not using his brain, in experiencing that pure feel of _good _when Alfred touched him. As he gazed at him, he let out a moan. He was blushing, and his eyebrows were dipped down in extreme concentration.

"Alfred…" Arthur's brain flickered to life for a short moment. "Do you have…do you have any lube?"

Alfred's hand retreated as did his lips, and he pouted as he moved off Arthur to fumble through a drawer by his bed. He produced a yellow tube, and Arthur smiled, his brain turning off again.

Alfred figured this meant he was topping…I mean, Arthur was just lying there, and he did ask about the lube…so…

Arthur's brain snapped to life at the last second. "Woah! Who ever said you were doing it?" He said, grabbing Alfred's outstretched hand, covered with lube.

"Can I?" Alfred asked, his cock twitching.

"No! And it's 'may I' you git! I'm topping!" Arthur scooped himself up and used his weight (which wasn't much) to push Alfred down.

"Artie~!" Alfred complained with a pout. "_I _want to!"

"No!"

"Pleeeease? It's my first time!"

Arthur paused and studied his boyfriend. Was it really his first time? He knew he was daft…but that daft?

"Fine." Arthur said, blushing furiously.

"I love you, Artie!" Alfred squealed, scooping up the Brit and nuzzling into his hair. "I love you! I love you so damn much!"

"Yes…yes…" Arthur whispered. "I love you too…git."

Alfred resumed kissing Arthur, this time a little with a little more passion. Arthur could still feel the smile on the corner of the git's lips.

"Okay…tell me if I do something wrong…" Alfred squirted a bit more lube on his hand (since the last had dried).

"AH!" Arthur cried, shocked. "You git! You're supposed to warm it up first!"

"Ah! Sorry! Sorry!" Alfred mumbled. Arthur just shook his head, sad that it was functioning once again.

Alfred pushed in a finger (at least he wasn't so stupid as to try two or three first) and slowly worked at Arthur's entrance.

Arthur wasn't a virgin, not after that crazy punk faze he went through as a teen. But the feeling was still weird to him, and he couldn't help that look on his face.

"Am I hurting you?" Alfred asked, nervous. He had a worried look in his eyes, and Arthur's heart flushed. "No, love. You're fine. Don't worry about me."

Alfred nodded determinedly (adorably!) and slipped out his fingers. "Okay…I'm putting it in now." Alfred whispered.

Arthur winced as Alfred entered him, filling him. He was still very hard, and very big. "Move." Arthur commanded, and he felt the American begin a shaky pace. It was quiet for a moment as Alfred tried to hide his insecurities and Arthur tried to hold back his whimpers (and not those of pleasure).

But as the sound of skin against lube against skin filled the room got faster, both boys started to loosen up. "Ah~!" Arthur moaned as Alfred finally hit his prostate. His vision went blind for a moment and all he saw was white…and then he saw Alfred, his face blushing bright red.

The American seemed to notice the Englishman's eyes on him, and reached down and began pumping Arthur in unison with the beat he had already set. Arthur moaned at the grip around his pounding cock, pleasure filling him as he felt he was already near his climax.

But Alfred beat him to it, pulling out quickly so as not to cum inside Arthur. At least he had _some _manners.

Arthur came not soon afterwards and they both lay breathing for a long while until Alfred began stroking Arthur's hair and saying how much he loved him.

Arthur pretended to be annoyed as usual, and the boys felt at ease once again.

Arthur ignored the hope this would happen again.

**Head/desk.**

**YOU. OWE. ME. **

**YOU OWE ME SO DAMN MUCH MONEY AND REVIEWS. It took me forever to write this chapter—and what's worse: my mom was in the room the entire time! I thought she was going to pounce and demand to know what I was writing. But she didn't. *phew***

**This was just the smut you all requested/demanded. SO I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY.**

**The next chapter will be crack and shits and giggles. **

**Sorry for any mistakes, I'm American!**

**-Mallory**


	32. AN

Hey guys. Before I get to posting the story, I just wanna clarify some things. If you were ever confused at some point, **PLEASE PLEASE** do me the favor of reading this. Thanks.

I've been getting a lot of reviews asking me questions, and I think it's time EVERYONE knew what was up.

First, I'd like to address the whole nothing-makes-sense, and no, I'm not talking about the crack.

There's quite a few mistakes. When I first started writing this, it was my second fanfic and I didn't know what I was doing. The result? Crack. And that's okay, but since I started out trying to make this have an actual _plot _(imagine that!) nothing at all makes sense.

So, even though they started out being called by their country names THEY ARE IN FACT HUMAN. Kinda I'm pretty sure Alfred is a whole new breed of stupid, but that's beside the point.

Earlier in the story, Arthur says he was a virgin. WELL I CHANGED THAT. Or maybe he was lying. OR MABE, I WENT BACK IN TIME AND RAPED HIM. (but it doesn't really matter much now, considering the last chapter)

ALSO~! Arthur calls his brother's by different names in the beginning of the story. DISREGARD THAT. Arthur's just a compulsive liar or something.

That should clear everything up! But if you have any questions, just PM me or leave a review.

SOME OTHER RANDOM STUFF* (You don't need to read this)

**How often will you/do you update?**

I try to post a chapter a week. Mostly I succeed. I'd like to post two a week, but I have four other ongoing stories and piano lessons, friends, school, and laziness. So not exactly a life…but close to one…AND OTHER EXCUSES.

**Where can I contact you?**

Just PM me. Honestly, I come on this website every day. I'll probably get back to you in an hour, knowing me.

**Is your beta coming back?**

Maybe. I can't expand on that this moment, but she's a little iffy…

**Do you have any other websites?**

Yeah, DeviantArt is my second home, but I also have a youtube and a TeenInk. Always the same username (: No, I'm not giving out my personal stuff like facebook or Email. And I DON'T HAVE A FREAKING TUMBLR.

**Where do you get your inspiration/how do you come up with this?**

For once I'll answer seriously. Every so often, my friends will do something crazy or you guys will leave an awesome review that inspires me to write. But most of the time it just comes to me.

THANKS EVERYONE FOR THE SUPPORT! I love you all so much it's ridiculous! I FEEL FAMOUS OR SOMETHING.

For those of you who read this all the way through:

WILL YOU MARRY ME? (This time I'M proposing to YOU!)

Love,

Mallory


	33. Hot Kool Aid

Arthur woke up because he couldn't breathe.

At first he wasn't sure why he couldn't breathe—I mean, he was in perfect physical health, and he didn't have a tendency to sleep in deep pools of water, so…

Luckily enough, he was able to concede using high intellect, patience, and deductive reasoning, that he was –in fact—being slowly crushed to death by a pair of arms.

And that would also explain why his ears hurt so much, because the owner of those arms was currently screaming in Arhus's poor, poor, auricles.

"YOU'RE SO CUTE, ARITE!" The person said, squeezing "Artie" tighter.

"YOU DOLT I CAN'T BREATHE!" Arthur screamed with the last of the air in his lungs, his face turning a slight shade of blue.

Alfred saw this and let go, watching the man inhale.

"Morning, Artie!" He cried happily.

"Leave me alone."

**OoOoOoO**

Gilbert and Matthew were having a strange day. Matthew had moved into Gilbert's room a while ago, but no one really noticed. In fact, Alfred probably forgot he existed.

Except, apparently, for now.

"What the fucking hell? Who are you?" Romano asked, staring at the strange ghost-like figure on his couch. _His fucking couch, dammit._

"I'm Matthew." Matthew said, rolling his eyes. Really, this was getting old. "I've lived here for a while now."

Romano stared at the Canadian for a short while, and then hastily left the room, looking quite frightened. A few moments later, he came back with a smiling Spaniard in tow.

"You're so cute when you're scared, Lovi~!"

"Shut up, bastard! This is serious!"

Matthew watched them come into the room, and watched as Romano pointed directly at him, and said "do you see someone on that couch?"

Antonio laughed and ruffled the Italian's hair. "What are you talking about, Lovi? There's no one there!"

At this, Matthew perked an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

Romano began recounting a tale to Antonio

(There was someone right there! _Don't fucking laugh, you bastard! _I saw it!)

When Gilbert came in and sat next to Matthew, giving him a quick kiss.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Romano screeched. "Did you just kiss _my mother fucking couch?"_

Gilbert looked up from where he had been leaning over Matthew, very confused. "No, I kissed Mattie."

"DON'T FUCKING NAME MY COUCH! It's _my _couch! I sit there and I sleep there and I have sex with Ant—" Romano suddenly cut himself off and blushed. "YOU KNOW WHAT? FINE. I'm leaving!"

**OoOoOoOoO**

Elizabeta had initiated plan 24BYaOi, and was on the verge of making a huge step in the program. She had already gotten Cozumel and Peter to hug in exchange for food (which they weren't permitted to have unless the hugged) and she had even caught them comforting one another in their imprisonment! Kiku had long abandoned the operation, saying something along the lines of "Having a soul not damned to hell". But all was still going smoothly without him.

And she would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for those fangirls and their "hearts". Whatever those are.

It was the dead of the night, and Hungary had turned in for bed. Cozumel and Peter were locked in their cell (or "encouragement cage" as Hungary called it) crying, when they heard a whisper.

"Psst,"

They both turned from their respective corners and took in four girls staring at them from between the bars.

"We're here to help you!" One of them said. "We really like Sea-Kun, and Cozumel seems cool enough. Plus, Hungary has been lonely ever since the Author refused to write her with Austria-san. Please excuse her; she's not in the right mind."

"Do you know what they're talking about?" Peter asked Cozumel. The latter's eyes narrowed. "They're outaku's." He said. "I'd recognize one anywhere. Just look at their purses and cell phones."

He pointed, and sure enough, Peter could distinctly make out various key chains ranging from My Neighbor Totoro to Death The Kid.

He even spotted a phone cover that had the words "Sealand is a Nation!" He didn't know why, but he really liked that case.

"Hey! We're here to help you!"

Cozumel's eyebrows scrunched in apprehension, and he crossed his arms. "Do you have a weeaboo with you?"

The girls coughed awkwardly and shifted. "…no…" The girl that had talked earlier said.

"Really?" Cozumel shot back.

"Yeah! Really! Now come on, before Eliza—"

Cozumel sucked in a great breath. "MOE MOE DESU! KAWAII! DESU MOE! NANI?" He cried, his voice ringing awkwardly because he had raised the pitch more than was necessary.

One of the girls exploded. "DESU! YAOI MOE KAWAII! SEME UKE MOE DESU!" She screamed in reply, only shutting up when her friends wrestled her to the ground, shouting things like:

"I thought we had talked about this!"

"NO ONE LIKES WEEABOOS!"

Cozumel shook his head, pushing open the door the girls had unlocked, and signaled for Peter to follow him out of the room, leaving the screaming fangirls behind.

**OoOoOoOoO**

The next morning went much better for Alfred and Arthur.

The Englishman was sitting at the kitchen table, dutifully reading the paper, a nice cup of tea beside him, when Alfred walked in.

"Mornin', Artie." He said with a curious smile.

"Morning." Arthur replied, flipping the page of his newspaper and beginning to read an article about the apparent sighting of a unicorn.

"I made a pot of Kool Aid." Alfred said, gesturing to the coffee pot in his hand.

Arthur put down his newspaper for a moment to turn to look at the grinning Alfred. "You don't make a pot of Kool Aid."

"Well, I did."

Arthur sighed. "Is it hot?"

Arthur tried to contain his smile. "Maybe, maybe not."

Arthur deflated. "It's hot isn't it."

The American chuckled slightly, jostling the pot so some of the liquid spilled. "Yeah!" He agreed brightly.

"Hot Kool Aid?"

"Well, I could put some ice in it if you'd like."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh, no. I'm not thirsty." He said, promptly taking a sip of his tea.

"Artie!" Alfred complained.

"I'm not going to drink it!"

"But I made this for you!"

"NO."

"Drink it!"

"NO!"

"I WANT YOU TO DRINK THIS!"

"Well I'm not going to drink it!" Arthur exclaimed angrily, turning angrily to face the American again.

"DRINK THIS RIGHT NOW OR I'LL POUR IT ON THE FLOOR AND I'LL BLAME IT ON YOU!"

"Oh yeah, _real _mature."

Alfred took a deep breath, his eyes dilating. "I MADE THIS FOR YOU!"

"Now why don't you just grow up?"

"I DID, BECAUSE I LOVE YOU."

"Well I'm not drinking it!"

"I HATE YOU."

Arthur sighed, still angry. "That's all I ever hear anymore!" He cried, exasperated. "Artie try this, Artie try that! What was it last time? Cinnamon toast and…what was it?"

"Mayonnaise." Alfred Supplied.

"Mayonnaise!" Arthur cried, as if repeating the word would increase the ridiculousness. "You didn't make a single pound!"

"But I made a _pound _of cinnamon toast with mayonnaise." Alfred told him.

"And let's not forget Rocky Road and Hamburgers. What was it…? Three? Yeah. Three women, hospitalized."

"YOU DRINK THIS. RIGHT NOOOOW."

"Drink your own Hot Kool Aid!"

"But there's so much left of it what the hell am I supposed to do with all this Hot Kool Aid?"

"DRINK IT!"

"NO!"

Alfred slammed into the chair beside Arthur's, a cup of hot Kool Aid in one hand and the Pot in the other. "Artie." He whispered. "Please. Drink. My. Hot. Kool Aid."

A moment of silence passed between them. "Fine." Arthur finally relented.

"Okay…" Alfred whispered, sliding the glass over.

"Alright." Arthur whispered back, mockingly. He pressed the cup to his lips, but chickened out. He repeated this five more times before finally taking a very small sip.

Then he licked his barely wet lips, set the glass down, and returned to his News.

Alfred stared at him expectantly. "So…"

"Hm?" Arthur asked, not daring to rip his eyes from his paper. "Huh…yeah…I like that. Yeah…"

Alfred sat back in his chair, a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

**Yeah I don't know either. The last part came from a youtube video called "Hot Kool Aid" It. Is. Amazing.**

**Here's the update! It's a little less crackier than usual but whatever.**

**Sorry for any mistakes! I'm American!**

**-Mallory**


	34. Neigh

Arthur found himself, yet again, in a bar.

The good news: He didn't come to drink away his problems.

The bad news: He barely remembered who he was.

"I'll have you know that I am not drunk, sir!" he told a pole. The pole didn't believe him. Stupid pole.

"Now, get out of my way, you bloody hobnocker!" Arthur told the pole. The pole, still not believing him, didn't budge.

"Fine!" Arthur yelled, slapping the pole. "I don't need you, anyway! I'll just go back to bar table and talk! He always believes me!"

Storming back to said Mister Bar Table, Arthur sat down on the stool with extreme difficulty. "Dammit, Stool! Quit moving!"

When he finally managed to get the damn thing to stop squirming around, he noticed three weird guys were staring at him. "Oi!" he yelled. "What the bloody hell are you looking at?"

The blonde one laughed. "Ohonhon~! Just watching the show, mon cher!"

Arthur didn't know who this jackass was, but he already didn't like him. Plus, said jackass was clearly French, and no amount of alcohol could ever make Arthur stop hating the French.

"Kesese~! Toni, call Alfred. He needs to see this shit!"

"Si, amigo! I will do it right now…"

Arthur ignored them. Stupid bastards. Interrupting his conversation.

"So as I was saying," Arthur told Bar Table pointedly, "I was talking to flying Mint Bunny the other day, and I was all 'Bitch, yo' man best be treatin' you right.' And she was like 'Giiiiirl. You be crazy. You know he's treatin' me right, 'else I'd slap him right upside his fat head.'"

Arthur's conversation continued like this for a good thirty minutes (much to the amusement of the three strangers) until a (rather cute) blonde poked his shoulder.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" Arthur screamed.

The (cute) blonde held up his hands. "Artie! It's okay! It's just me. I'm here to take you home!"

(The three strangers in the corner whined.)

"No way, you bloody bastard! I'm staying here with Table! He's the only one who understands me!"

Alfred sighed. If Arthur was in the 'talk to inanimate objects' stage of drunkenness, then he had four more stages to go through before he finally passed out.

Alfred wasted no time.

Throwing the Englishman over his shoulder, Alfred left a plentiful batch of money on the counter, and strode out the door.

No one even spared them a second look.

It happened almost every Saturday, anyways.

"OI! PUT ME DOWN. LET ME GO. TURN ME LOOSE. I SAY! THIS IS RATHER UNDIGNIFIED—"

Forty six minutes and seven deadly accidents later, Alfred was on stge two of Arthur's drunk-ness. He actually liked this stage.

Arthur was running all over the apartment, screaming about the "man" who is apparently "bringing him down". He had switched his usually bland and forty-year-old-virgin clothes for something Alfred liked much better.

Much much much better.

He was wearing tight black jeans with rips down the thighs, his shirt seemed to be clinging to his shoulders only by a few measly threads and a handful of safety pins. His hair was gelled into an even more unmanagle state than it usually was, and he had the Sex Pistols rining loudly in his ears.

"Artie~" Alfred called from the couch.

"Wot?" Arthur replied. No 'bloody bastard' or 'git' or 'fairy'. Just 'what'. Alfred smiled.

"Will you come sit with me?" Alfred patted the spot next to him.

"Sure, whatever." Arthur shrugged and waltzed over to his boyfriend (said man really enjoying the view).

Arthur settled himself down on the couch, snuggling up to Alfred's side without even blushing. Which was always cute, and the American sure wasn't going to complain about this.

"Want to listen?" Arthur asked him, holding up an ear bud. Alfred took it gratefully and they old music together until Arthur decided to go into Stage Three.

This was Alfred's favorite stage.

"Alfie~" Arthur cooed. He had managed to turn himself around to face Alfred while he was in stage two, and was now straddling the man.

Like a horse.

Neigh.

Anyways, his canines poked out of his smile as he raised his impressive brow in a suggestive manner. "Let's have sex!" Arthur exclaimed.

"No," Alfred said sternly, pushing his boyfriend away. "Your sober self clearly told me not to have sex with you when you're drunk. And you are."

Arthur pouted. "I'm not druuunk~! I loooove you! AND I WANT THE SEX~!"

"I love you too, but no."

Arthur sighed and sprawled himself over the American, a little more than too dramatically. Alfred wasn't complaining though.

Until, that is, Arthur started grinding into him.

Dammit.

Alfred was the hero! He wasn't allowed to break promises! He…no! He had to stay strong! And not think about that awesome feeling and—

"NO! BAD ARTIE!" Alfred picked up the now pouting Englishman and set him down on his own couch cushion. "Don't do that!"

Arthur wasted no time in a response, only attacking Alfred with kissing and groping.

Alfred was finding it harder and harder to resist.

But just when he was about to give in, the fourth and final stage rolled by.

"IT'S BECAUSE YOU DON'T LOVE ME ISN'T IT," Arthur bawled. He was sobbing into the now completely confused and somewhat turned on Alfred.

Oh, Iggy was _so _going to get some tomorrow.

"YOU NEVER LOVED ME. NO ONE LOVES ME. I SHOULD JUST GO DIE," Arthur screeched between tears.

"I love you a ton, Artie," Alfred said, getting up off the couch. "Now come on, it's time for bed."

Arthur wiped at his still-flowing tears, and looked at Alfred with a trembling lip.

Alfred's heart exploded from cuteness overload. He scooped up the Englishman and nuzzled into his hair, exclaiming something along the lines of, "YOU'RE SO FREAKING CUTE!"

And Arthur was crying because cute is an insult. Apparently.

Alfred dragged them both upstairs and threw them on his bed, where he proceeded to cuddle Arthur (nearly smothering him) until the poor drunk fool cried himself to sleep.

Alfred couldn't wait for the next day.

**Hello guys! I'M NOT DEAD :D**

**Sorry this took a while, but I have finals and so does my beta. (That's right, she's back!)**

**Hope you guys will stay with us, Final's suck. **

**WHY SCHOOL SYSTEM. WHYYY.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Mallory**


	35. Yet another AN

**Hello everyone. I have some bad news. **

**Fanfiction has recently begun a rampage. Apparently after ten years of fangirls wrinting pure smut, fanfiction has decided enough is enough.**

**Now, I don't really think this story is too bad (except for maybe two tiny chapters...*cough*) but I would like to warn you all that there is a possibilty this story will be taken down. **

**I have resorted to making a tumblr and a Live Journal in the event that it is, so I can continue posting my stuff there like so many other authors have resorted to. **

**My Tumblr is under Animewatcherfreakmal, as per the usual**

**my live journal is AWFM**

**Right now there's nothing on either of them. I'm not really into so all these websites, I prefer to just keep all my stories on one or the other. But if I have to, I will.**

**As for the actual writing of this story, I must apologize. **

**I know I haven't been updating as often as I used to, but school and life have been kinda hectic. I've started taking my writing life a little more seriously, too, and this crackfic (because honestly, that's what it is) really isn't doing it for me. I was thinking of turning it into just a series of semi-connected oneshots. How would you all feel about that? It would more or less follow the plot now (Ha! What plot?) But I would feel so much better writing it. I mean, there's nothing wrong with crack (the literary kind, of course) but I would rather use wit and comedy in my writing, not just pure blasphemy. **

**So please tell me what you think. You guys are the only reason I keep writing.**

**Also, for those of you who read this, thank you so much. You are fantastic. You guys have no idea what it means to me to have actual FANS. I feel famous all the time because of you people. Thank you all so much.**

**Now, for random things about my life that you don't have to read:**

**I have finals next week. This is why I have not been posting. Because of tests. Which I despise.**

**ALSO! I will not be posting ANYTHING near the secon week of June because I will be traveling in a car all the way to New Jersey. Where I spend every summer. Working.**

**Due to the fact I'll be working, I might not update very much. Also, the wifi up there is shit. SO I AM SORRY. But I will try as hard as possible. I LOVE YOU GUYS TOO MUCH TO LEAVE YOU.**

**-Mallory**


	36. Cooking Skills

Quantity over quality.

That's what Alfred always believed. I mean, it doesn't matter what the food _tastes _like so long as there's a lot of it, right?

Or at least, that's what he told himself as he stared at the heaping plate of charcoal in front of him. Or as Arthur calls them: Scones.

Alfred gulped and looked into Arthur beautifully hopeful green eyes.

Oh holy shit, he was going to do it, wasn't he?

The rock—sorry—scone, was in his hand. His hand was inching it's way to his mouth. Why were his lips parting? Oh god, what was that _smell?_

Then, the scone hit his tongue.

After that, it wasn't all too bad. His mouth went completely numb and later he even went as far as to declare that his taste-buds died.

He ate three more just to please Arthur and miraculously, he only needed his stomach pumped twice.

All in all,

_It was a good day for the USUK couple._

* * *

><p>Francis was interrupted in his...ah...'daily activities' by his cell phone ringing. The song was <em>Saturday Night's alright for dancing<em>, which meant that Arthur was calling.

"Âllo?" Francis answered.

"Francis!" Arthur exclaimed, sounding uncharacteristically happy. "I have amazing news!"

"Oh? Quoi?"

"Alfred ate four of my homemade scones!"

Francis put down the phone or a moment and clutched at his heart, giving a bit of respect. The good always do die young.

Francis humbly took up his cell phone again. "It is a shame," he told Arthur, "Alfred was always a kind boy, if a bit dim. What flowers should I bring to the funeral?"

Arthur huffed. "No you fool!" He screamed. "Alfred is fine!"

"QUOI?"

"Alfred is alive and well! Al, tell Francis you say hi!"

Francis heard the phone being switched over. "I say Hi, Francis!" Alfred said happily.

Tears poured down the Frenchman's face, and he quickly dabbed at his eyes with a frilly pink handkerchief.

"It is a miracle!" Francis sighed.

Good ol' Arthur had finally found his soul mate.

"So when will you be out of the hospital?" Francis asked.

"Just two more days!" Was Alfred's cheerful reply.

"Really?" Francis gasped. "How quick! You two are beautiful together! Oh, l'amour..."

_And Francis went about his day, swooning in the power of love._

**Hello guys. So this is basically what I was talking about with the oneshot stuff. They'll vary in length.**

**So I had TWO 2 hour long exams today OTL Health was easy, but goddammit French is a hard language. TOO MANY LETTERS AND APOSTROPHES AND ACCENTS.**

**I've decided to write this until chapter forty, and then end it. I might start another funny USUK, something like this, but...**

**No promises.**

**I love you guys. You have no idea. Thank you all so much for sticking with me. It means a lot.**

**Sorry for any mistakes! I'm American!**

**-Mallory**


	37. The End

Hey guys. This will be the last time I update this story, so it would mean a lot to me if you read the A/N.

"Oh, fuck. What the hell? How did all these cobwebs get here?" Alfred shouted, swatting them aside.

Arthur sighed. "The git of an author had far too much writers block. She even gave up on us for a while!"

Mitchel blew out his cheeks and stood up. "Why is it so dark? The bitch didn't even pay the electric bill..."

Somewhere in the back of the dark room, there was a small rustling noise. Alfred jumped straight into the air and clung to Arthur's shoulders. "GHOSTS! Or worse! Professor Umbridge!"

Arthur flung him off. "Git! There are no such thing as ghosts! And this isn't a Harry Potter AU, so shut it."

Davis groaned and tried to stand. "Oh god, what happened? Where are we? Arthur, did you break the fourth wall again?"

Arthur sniffed and turned away. "Yes, maybe. Now we should stop talking and figure out what that noise is because if it was something deadly we're probably doomed."

Of course Arthur was right, because in the darkness, if you squinted and tilted your head to the side you could just barely make out a hairy, gruesome figure.

"Oh, shit! It's worse than professor Umbridge! IT'S FRANCIS!"

Francis walked towards them. "Oh shut it, _tu connard."_

Alfred just ignored him and turned to Arthur. "Hey, Artie, can we go to Pigfarts?"

Arthur rolled his eyes once more and began feeling for a wall. "You ninny. You can't just _go _to Pigfarts. It's on the moon."

Alfred pouted and trotted after him. "Yeah but sometimes the Headmaster, Rumbleroar, will give you a ride on his back."

"Well not everyone can afford rocket ships, Alfred. Now shut up and help me find the exit."

The whole group split up, and sooner or later one of them found the front door. "Got it!"

They flung it open and revealed the city that they had left. Regan was on the doorstep, passed out and snoring. Beside her was an albino who was grinning madly.

"You guys! You made it too!" He cried, wrapping them into his arms. "I thought we'd all be locked in the prison of a never finished story again!"

Alfred started crying. "It was horrible!" He wailed. "I don't know how, but sometimes people would find us in earlier chapters and review! WHO DOES THAT? It's like talking to dead people..."

Gilbert patted his back and let him go. Alfred rubbed at his eyes, and then turned to face Arthur, taking his hands. "But while I was in my writers-block induced coma, I did some deep thinking. I thought about how shitty our Author is. And how I might never get to see light again." Alfred took a deep breath and fell on his knee.

"So, Arthur, I just want to spend all of my actual moments with you." He held up a sparkling ring I kindly provided for him and smiled nervously. "So, Artie, would you marry me?"

Arthur looked around. "But Alfred, gays can't marry in-"

"Fuck the system. Do you want to marry me or not?"

Arthur looked around at all his friends and siblings. They were all nodding at him. He felt some tears prick at his eyes. "Oh, of course I do Alfred! I love you!"

And then a rainbow appeared in the background and sparkly shit started flowing down from the sky. It was all kawaii desu.

Then there was this huge romance montage and I think Francis fucked a couple of virgins and then Mitchel went to the doctor again and life was all fantastic.

Then, it was time for the wedding.

Alfred was standing there at the alter because that's what you do when you're about to get married. Everyone was there, even Matthew, although Alfred couldn't see him anywhere. Then the organ started playing and Arthur walked in wearing a dress because, fuck you, I like Arthur is dresses.

Alfred might have started crying a little and voice voice maybe kinda sorta cracked a little when he said his vows and Arthur kept blushing and being the little uke he is. Then the unusually handsome priest said "And you can now kiss the bride, or whatever the fuck that is."

So Alfred grabbed Arthur by the waist and tugged him towards himself, and they passionately made out while everyone clapped and cried.

Then Arthur and almost everyone else got really drunk at the reception, Cozumel kissed Peter, Eliza took pictures and then the USUK couple were off to their honeymoon.

They went to Nantucket, of course, where they had a lot of sex.

And they lived happily ever after the end.

**Hey guys. **

**I sorry for this fail.**

**I really am.**

**This was the first real fic I ever wrote and I'm so glad for all of your support. You have no idea how much you all mean to me. But I just...I don't like this fic at all. I hated writing it because it made no sense and it didn't have any plot or justice to my writing skills.**

**I figured, though, that I at least owe you guys a wedding and a thanks because you have all been so very nice and it makes me so sad to disappoint you.**

**Please, if you have any questions or comments leave a review and I'll be sure to get back to you.**

**Once again, thanks so much.**

**Sorry for any mistakes! I'm American!**

**-Mallory**


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